The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend
by dixiegurl13
Summary: Stinger never thought he'd live long enough to see retirement in the US Air Force, much less having an unconventional friendship with a certain black Seeker. Retirement? Yeah, right! Sequel to "The Enemy of My Enemy is My Enemy."
1. New Life, New Problems

**A/N: Welcome Everyone!**

**This marks the second episode in my "Enemy of my Enemy" series. You don't need to read my first story (Enemy of my Enemy is my Enemy) to understand this one; however, if you choose to do so, you'll better understand just how the characters all met. This story will begin seven years after the conclusion of the first and will start off a little slow, but no worries. Things will pick up quickly. Please let me know what ya think! Now onto the good stuff!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own transformers; people who are luckier than me do. However I do claim Lt. Col. Stinger and any other non-transformer characters.**

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_**The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend **_

**Chapter 1: New Life, New Problems**

"Damn! What a day!" Lt. Colonel Don "Stinger" Kesinger exclaimed as he made his way out to the tarmac. The dawn was just beginning to set the sky ablaze with all the colors of the spectrum. Light, fluffy clouds were quickly turning from a dingy grey, to a vibrant gold. Streaks of pink and orange blazed across the heavens as a new day was born. Close to the hangars, the veteran ex-pilot could hear the thrum of the engines as their operators prepared to engage in their morning exercises. A tiny prick of jealousy pulled on his heart as he watched the war birds slowly make their way to the flight line, the marshallers giving quick, abrupt hand gestures and salutes as the planes drove by. He missed the sky; he missed it something fierce these days. He missed the speed and the adrenaline rush of breaking Mach 2, he missed the tight turns and stomach-churning loops and the blood-draining pull of _gs _while in the heat of combat. And he especially missed being able to see the world as few others ever had, his favorite time being right now as the dawn breaks. He sighed heavily. It had been his life, his love, his passion to kiss the sky and play in its open arena. But not anymore.

These days, the closest he could ever hope to touch the sky was by placing his fingertips on the crystal clear glass panes of his office windows. It was the price he paid to help save the world only seven years ago. Seven years ago, he had been a young fighter jock no different than the rest of the young men in his squadron. Seven years ago, he had been flying a routine sortie to stop the Decepticons from stealing Symkeria's energy resources. But that's where the routine abruptly ended and his life, not to mention his career, changed forever. Shortly after engaging the Decepticon flight group known as the "Seekers," Stinger had been shot down by an unknown, unforeseen enemy. The attack had come from nowhere and even took the Decepticons by surprise. He had survived the crash, but had landed deep in a hostile country known as Latveria, a country about which little was known and even less of its ambitions. Shortly after being shot down, he met up with someone he least expected, the powerful Seeker known as Skywarp. He smiled at that memory. The Decepticon flyer had begrudgingly admitted to being shot down as well with no idea as to who was responsible. Finding the circumstances suspicious the two soldiers formed a shaky truce with the intention of hunting down the culprit responsible and exacting joint revenge. But it became so much more. After many trials and hair-singeing, armor charring battles the two former enemies soon became close friends and vowed to help each other escape the country. Together the two of them discovered a nefarious plot by Latveria's monarch, Dr. Doom, to take control of the world using a powerful, robotic army based off of Cybertronian technology. The only piece he needed was Skywarp's warp field generator to make his army invincible—hence why the Decepticon was shot down to begin with. But with the impromptu help from Skywarp's wingmates, the three Cons and the pilot had stopped Doom's underhanded plot and destroyed the dictator as well as his army. Unfortunately, he had been grievously injured during their last stand in Doom's castle, an injury that had shattered his left leg as well as his dreams. But humanity was safe (from Doom anyway) and he had a friendship that was unlike any other. After all, how many people could honestly say they were on a name-to-name basis with the Decepticon's Command Trine? Stinger grinned to himself; it could have been worse, a lot worse and he thanked God everyday for what he had now.

The Lieutenant Colonel set his shoulders and once again resumed his march to the hangars, greeting airmen, marines, and soldiers alike. He walked with a slight limp these days, but after seven years of recovery the deformity barely even registered.

"Good morning, sir!" an airman called cheerily.

"Good mornin' to you too, Sergeant White," Stinger returned. He prided himself on knowing almost every single face under his command. His career as far as flight was concerned was over, but his career in the Air Force was far from it. Kesinger was now the Wing Commander for the 213th Fighter Squadron at Edwards Air Force Base in southern California. The weather was agreeable to his leg and his position allowed him to at least be close to the second love of his life, the first being his beautiful wife, Carla. Yep, that's right. Shortly after, Doom's demise, the foxy, red-headed vixen left her home country of Latveria to search out the brave American who had freed her country. During his time in Latveria, then Carla Petrova had been a secret member of a resistance force that had been helping disgruntled citizens escape the country as well as to challenge Doom's authority. She had worked in the hospital that Stinger infiltrated and had even helped the pilot escape capture when his cover was blown. He never dreamed of seeing her again, but the day she showed up at his dorm-like apartment, he knew he had found the woman of his dreams. They married shortly after and Carla took to the military lifestyle with ease. She even received the rare pleasure of meeting Skywarp once when the mischievous Con dropped by for a visit after, you guessed it, an energy raid, but that had been almost two years ago.

Stinger missed that rambunctious collection of messed up navigational parts. Since the Latverian Fiasco he had only seen Warp maybe twice and his trinemates once. Officially they were still on opposite sides of the fence where protocol was concerned, but Stinger would never betray his friendship with the trio. He rubbed his right arm unconsciously. As far as the government was concerned, the Cons returning him to base was a "you-scratch-my-back-we'll scratch-yours- and-it'll-never-happen-again" affair. But under the table, he had been keeping tabs on his Seeker friends, often knowing much more than the government's cream-of-the-crop intelligence agents. It was a tricky tightwire to walk at times, often bordering on treason, but Stinger liked living on the edge and pushing envelopes, especially when he was pushing envelopes up pesky political rears!

He made his way through the hangar area, greeting a technician here, shaking hands with a brand new lieutenant there and more or less just making his presence known to his men. He wanted to be involved and he wanted his subordinates to know that he was approachable no matter the occasion. So, everyday he performed the same routine; he would walk the hangars and listen, good or bad, important or not, Stinger would listen to anyone willing to talk and it paid off. His squadron was one of the most efficient, most disciplined, and possessed the highest morale in the Force.

After mingling with his men for almost half an hour, Stinger made his way to his office located at the base's main building. His was a corner office, spacious, but sparsely furnished with a warm, simple décor and a down-to-earth atmosphere that was lacking with higher ranked officers. The ex-pilot walked slowly to the window and drew back the long, burgundy drapes allowing the morning sunshine to fill the office with warm cheer. He then took his seat at the large mahogany desk and rifled through the stack of papers left in his in-box. It was the same-old, same-old—more forms to fill, slips to sign, and reports to write. Damn! How he missed that cockpit! His life had slowed considerably since the day he had left England to return to the States. Perhaps he should retire, hang it up and return to Virginia. Pa would love to have the extra help on the farm and he could probably pick up a job in the old family machine shop. But as quickly as the thought skittered across his brain, it dissipated into a hazy fog. His place was here among his men, helping new pilots adjust, monitoring their progress and preparing them for the day that they too would taste the bitter reality that was combat. With twelve years of service behind him, it would be better to just stick it out and retire after 20. At least he and his wife would be well provided for.

His thoughts once again strayed to Skywarp and his trine. What were they up to nowadays? How were they faring? It had been almost two years since he had last seen Skywarp and even then they hadn't had much time to talk. Here in the past six months Decepticon activity had decreased drastically from levels almost a year ago. Some officials wondered if the malignant aliens were finally giving up and leaving Earth. But Stinger knew better. In the past Skywarp had always managed to slip the Lt. Colonel just enough intelligence to either get his men out of harm's way or to prepare for some sort of engagement. It was a big risk on his part and Stinger was careful to cover both of their tracks. Generally speaking, his men had only ever engaged the Decepticons twice; both times the wily pilot knew the trine had taken it easy on them. Planes marked with the 213th numeric were either shot in a non-critical area or wounded just enough to be unable to fight back. His pilots laughed and joked about how the Seekers couldn't match their skill and Stinger would laugh right along with them, but numbers never lied. His squadron had yet to have a casualty; all the others present at the raid would suffer 80 and 90 percent losses. Deep down Stinger knew it was only by the good graces of the Decepticon Air Commander that his men lived to see another battle. How much longer this game could continue, he did not know; he only thanked God after each battle for sparing his boys' lives.

But here in the past six months, Skywarp's intelligence flow had ebbed with the activity and it seemed the Cons had slipped off the radar. It made Stinger nervous where other men were relieved. It raised his guard, while others lowered theirs and being an officer midway up the totem pole meant his words and feelings didn't amount to a pile of horse manure. It was the same old vicious cycle. Once again he focused his thoughts on the paperwork before him and resignedly picked up his pen to get to work.

* * *

It was almost five in the evening (1700 for all you military buffs) when Stinger finished his office work for the day and was getting ready to lock up for the night. Preparing to stand-up he paused as if hit by a sudden remembrance. The colonel sat back down and slowly opened the middle pencil drawer of his desk. To a normal observer it was just another drawer filled with pens, pencils, leads, and other office affects, but a trained eye could tell a difference. Stinger slid his hand into the back of the drawer and gently pressed down. The front floor of the drawer popped up, allowing the ex-pilot to slide his fingertips underneath. He raised the floor and slipped his free hand into the hidden compartment and withdrew a tiny piece of shaped metal.

He rolled the tiny piece across his palm and studied the intricate detailing. It was roughly triangular in shape and bore the Decepticon shield with a double chevron in the background. It was actually a tracking beacon as well as a passport of sorts. Skywarp had given the piece to him as a parting gift back in England. If activated the beacon would signal the trine of his whereabouts; it would also discourage any other Decepticons from messing with him should the need arise, which he hoped it wouldn't. It brought back a wave of fresh memories.

He slipped the beacon into a hidden pocket and prepared to leave once more. Suddenly his telephone rang, the sound loud and shrill in the stillness of the evening. "Now who in the hell could be calling this time of day?" the Lt. Colonel grumbled to himself. He sat his briefcase down on the floor and reached for the receiver.

"Lt. Colonel Kesinger."

"Kesinger? As in Don Kesinger?" an irritating, nasally voice queried. Stinger frowned; he wasn't much of a rank stickler, but when dealing with people he didn't know he'd like for them to address him properly.

"Yes, this is _Lt_. _Colonel _Don Kesinger. With whom am I speaking?"

"Oh, well yes, yes. My name is Larry Sarver, the representative for Laura Kline."

_Laura Kline? Why did that name sound vaguely familiar?_ "What can I help you with, Mr. Sarver?" Stinger inquired, barely withholding the impatience in his voice. Carla would have dinner ready soon and he promised he wouldn't be late this evening.

"Well, Mr. Kesinger, as I've said, I am Laura Kline's representative and I'm calling to arrange a time and place for pickup."

"Pickup?" Kesinger repeated. _What in the hell do I need to pickup from this asshole who represents someone I don't even know?_ "Pickup of what?" he asked genuinely puzzled.

"Why your daughter, of course."

"_MY WHAT!?"_

The phone line was silent for a brief moment. "You mean, you didn't know?"

"What in the hell are you talking about!? What do you mean I didn't know!? What's there to know? Is this some sort of a prank, 'cause if it is, by St. Peter, I'll have your head for this!"

"Wha-Wha-Wait one moment, Mr. Kesinger…"

"_It's Lieutenant Colonel _Kesinger, Sarver."

"Oh, yes, well, uh Lt. Colonel, uh sir, you mean to tell me you weren't aware that you had a daughter?"

"Hell no, I didn't know I had a daughter! What kind of sick joke is this!?"

"Oh, it's no joke, sir! According to Mrs. Kline's will and her daughter's birth certificate, you are the father."

"Will?" Stinger repeated again.

"Uh, yes, will. Mrs. Kline regrettably passed away in a car accident two days ago. An intoxicated driver T-boned her vehicle…Terrible, terrible thing, Mr. er uh, Lt. Colonel, sir. But I can see how this comes as a shock to you…"

_You have no idea._ "Uh, Mr. Sarver, you have to be mistaken. I don't know any Laura Kline and I would think I would know if I had a daughter or not. I think you're mistaking me for someone else."

"No, no. I believe you are the right person…" There was the sound of shuffling papers on the other end. "Oh, let's see here…Yes here we are: Born October 4, 1975 to Mr. Edward Kesinger and Mrs. Katherine Kesinger in Roanoke, VA, entered service in the US Air Force in 1997, you…"

"All right! All right! Yes, that's me! I get the picture. But what does all this have to do with Laura Kline?"

"Well, sir, uh, how about we meet tomorrow afternoon? I'll bring Maria and we can sit and discuss this over lunch, there on your base, Edwards isn't it?"

"Uh, well…"

"Marvelous! Marvelous! I'll see you tomorrow at your office about two then. Good evening, Mr. Kesinger."

_Click._

Slowly, Stinger placed the receiver back in the cradle and pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat. "I hate Mondays, almost as much as I hate lawyers," he grumbled before picking up his briefcase and slamming the door shut.

* * *

Stinger only lived a short distance from his office on base. His rank afforded him and his wife a comfortable house to live in, close to all the base necessities that they'd ever need. Besides, he liked the exercise; it kept him from getting fat and lazy in his "old age." But this evening, he didn't take any time to savor the short, scenic walk back to his home. Stinger's mind was in a flurry of activity. He all but ran up the steps of his small and quaint two story house, opening and closing the door with just a little more force than necessary. He left his briefcase by the door and rushed to the kitchen, the most likely place he would find Carla.

Sure enough she was leaning over the oven, removing a large pan of freshly baked bread. Her head turned up to look at him, a bright smile flashing across her face. She quickly set the bread off to the side and stood up to meet her husband.

"Stinger? You're just in time!" she greeted cheerily, however her smile faded as she saw the taunt expression on his face.

"What is wrong?" she asked, her Latverian dialect lightly accenting her words. She pulled a few stray locks of auburn hair behind her ear and her vibrant, blue eyes showed her concern. He held her upper arms lightly and gave a labored sigh. _Oh, boy. Here goes nothin'_.

"Uh, Carla, there's something important I need to tell you," he scratched his scalp anxiously. "Here, let's sit down," he pulled a couple of chairs out from the kitchen table for himself and Carla. They sat down holding each other's hands, her waiting patiently for him to begin and him trying to find the right words to say. Finally, he settled on the simplest course of action.

"Carla, you know I'm not one to sugar coat things, so I'm gonna come right out and say it," he inhaled deeply before continuing. "Today at the office, I received a phone call…from a lawyer. He told me me…he told me I had a daughter."

The kitchen grew quiet. On the wall in the living room, a hand carved German cuckoo clock slowly ticked the minutes; a car passed by on the street and in the distance children were laughing as they played a game in a nearby yard. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the house with goodness, although no one had much of an appetite for eating just now.

"A…a daughter?" Carla whispered slowly, her blue eyes filled with puzzlement. "I do not understand."

"Huh! Neither do I, honey. I honestly had no clue about this whatsoever and for what it's worth I'm sorry. I really am."

"Who is the girl's mother?" Carla asked; her expression did not betray any emotion whatsoever. Her blue eyes bored steadily into his grey ones. It made Stinger shift uncomfortably. His wife was one of the few people he had trouble reading when they were deep in thought.

"The lawyer said her name was Laura Kline; I really don't remember having met anyone with that name, but I guess we'll find out. The lawyer, Sarver, said she was recently killed in a car accident. They're coming tomorrow around two. I…I'm sorry, Carla! I didn't know…"

"Ssshhh." Carla replied, pressing a finger to his lips. Her thin lips turned up into a small smile and her blue eyes twinkled with endearment. "You do not need to explain yourself. All will be revealed tomorrow. Is this child coming to stay with us?"

"Yeah, I think so," Stinger replied. He was grateful that Carla didn't seem too upset over this new development; she was a cool thinker under pressure anyway. She had to have been while working for the Luptãtorii de Libertate back in Latveria. It was one of the many qualities he admired in her, both then and now.

"If the girl just lost her mother, she will be in deep distress. We will prepare our spare room for her use, but first let us eat. We can discuss this much more thoroughly after our stomachs are full."

She rose from her seat and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead before turning and finishing her preparations for dinner. Stinger sat in his chair a minute longer before rising from his seat and approaching Carla. He wrapped his muscular arms around her waist and gave her a tender kiss on the neck. "Thank you," he whispered softly into her auburn locks.

She turned and smiled at him, placing a hand behind his head. "Everything will be all right," she reassured him.

"I hope so. I really hope so."

* * *

The next morning drug by with painful slowness. Stinger went through his rounds with his men and equipment as usual, but it felt as if he were on autopilot. He made arrangements at the gatehouse to clear Sarver and his "guest" with instructions and directions to come to his office. Carla was going to meet him there about a quarter 'til two; she had already made plans to have lunch at their home once introductions were complete.

But even with his wife's support, Stinger felt a stomachful of butterflies fluttering around in his insides. Honestly, he hadn't felt this nervous since he first met Skywarp's wingmates. Now that had been nerve-wracking! It was still a surreal feeling that in less than five minutes he had gone from happily married man to a father. Him! Lt. Col. Don "Stinger" Kesinger a father! He didn't know the first thing about raising a kid! It wasn't as if they came with instruction manuals or simulators. And what of her mother? Who _was_ she? Would his new-found daughter accept Carla? Hell, for that matter, would she accept him? These questions and more raced through his mind like a California wildfire at the head of the Santa Anita winds. So many questions, so few answers.

He checked his watch. It was almost time for Carla. He shuffled through his paperwork, not that any of it was going to get completed in his state of mind. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the tiny beacon. What would Skywarp think about this? He smiled at the thought of his friend's reaction. It would be nothing short of comical that's for sure. And that was a whole different situation in itself. If his daughter did stay with them (and it looked like there was a pretty good chance) should he tell her of Skywarp and his relationship with the Seekers? At this time, Carla was the only other one who knew of his secretive friendship. Actually it probably wasn't so much as "if" as it was "when" he should tell her. Now that he thought about it, he should probably leave it up to Warp to decide whether or not to accept her into the tiny ring of trust. As Carla had said last night, "time will reveal all."

A soft knock on his door brought him out of his reverie. "Come in," he called lightly while shoving the beacon back into his pocket. It was probably Carla. Sure enough, his assumption proved correct. She entered through the doorway and gave him a flashy smile.

"Are you ready?" she asked, walking over to meet him behind the desk.

"As I'll ever be, I reckon," he grinned in return, but his jitters only seemed to increase.

"I believe I saw them in the parking lot; they are not that far behind me," she said quietly.

"Oh, boy," he said, pulling a calloused hand through his hair. This was it. Sure enough, not five minutes later another knock on his door echoed ominously throughout his office. Instead of requesting them inside, Stinger walked up to the door and opened it himself.

A small, spindly man with round spectacles on his nose gave him a smile that would have made any salesman proud. He was dressed in a neat, high-dollar grey business suit and carried a locking briefcase in his right hand—yep, definitely the stereotypical lawyer type. By his side and just a few inches taller than the man escorting her, stood a young girl between 14 and 15, if Stinger had to hazard a guess. The ex-pilot had to stifle a gasp as his eyes met his daughter's for the first time. She was almost the spitting image of himself when he was a teenager. She had his eyes, a beautiful steely grey framed in a heart-shaped face. Her hair was the color of summer honey and her skin was a healthy, sun-kissed tan. All in all, she was quite a pretty little filly.

Stinger offered the laywer a warm smile and a handshake. "Mr. Sarver I presume," he said.

"Yes, that is me," Sarver replied, shaking Stinger's hand.

_Man shakes hands as if he's made of glass; better watch this one,_ Stinger thought to himself. Sarver's voice cut in once more.

"And this, Mr. Kesinger, is your daughter—Maria Elizabeth Kline."

"Nice to meet you," Stinger greeted warmly offering the teenager his hand and not bothering to correct the lawyer just yet.

Her eyes iced over and she turned away from him just a bit, her dark eyebrows furrowed across her brow. She didn't take his hand, but crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "Hardly," she spat, bitterness permeating her voice.

'_Oh boy, this is going to be harder than I thought_, the pilot thought grimly withdrawing his hand. He swung the door wide and beckoned the guests inside. Cue his mid-life crisis.


	2. The Choices We Make

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for such a long delay, but I've been going non-stop since arriving in Kansas one week ago. I'm trying to fulfill my dream to become a military aviator and have been busy compiling my application packet for an Army Aviation Warrant Officer. It's a long, tedious process and hopefully I'll find out in the next three weeks if I'm selected or not. In the meantime, I've been training and studying like crazy, so updates will be sporadic at best. But major kudos to all of you who have hung with me and will continue to do so! Now on with the story!**

**Chapter Two: The Choices We Make**

Stinger graciously stepped back from the doorframe to permit the two guests to enter the office. Sarver briskly walked in, followed by the young teen. Across the room from in front of the window, Carla rose from her seat and greeted the two guests with a friendly, warm smile. Just like before, Maria turned into stone and coldly turned away from the greeting, her behavior clearly indicating she didn't want to play any part in the proceedings.

"Well, if you don't mind Mr. Kesinger, we'll get right to things," Sarver announced, sitting directly across the large, dark-colored desk. Beside him, Maria seated herself with legs crossed and arms folded, a slight frown on her face and a storm brewing within her eyes.

Kesinger stared pointedly at the wanna-be lawyer before shutting the door a little too harshly. Maria's eyes weren't the only ones clouding over like a Kansas thunderstorm. "Let's get one thing straight here and now, Sarver. I am a public servant in the United States Armed Services and from here on out you will address me as such. My title is _Lieutenant_ _Colonel _Kesinger. Know it, remember it and we'll get along spendidly."

Sarver blanched slightly at the hard, icy edge in Stinger's tone. He swallowed noticeably before trying to regain his composure by opening the briefcase. "Uh, yes! Yes! Of course Mr., er—uh, Lieutenant Kesinger, sir. I'm sorry, really I am. It's just that, um, I'm really not used to dealing with military service members, um, such as yourself and—"

Stinger resignedly ran a hand down his face in mild exasperation as he seated himself behind the desk. He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Let's just get to the point, Mr. Sarver. I'm sure I'm not the only one here that feels a little 'out-of-sorts' with this impromptu meeting," the pilot prompted. His eye glanced warily at the young teen seated slightly to his front and right. She appeared completely disengaged from the conversation, content to just stare idly out the window, watching planes come and go with infrequent consistency.

"Well, um, Lieutenant Colonel, as I've already told you, Miss Laura Kline regrettably passed away recently and I'm here to ensure the safe and legal transfer of her daughter to your care," Sarver began somewhat hesitantly. If Stinger didn't know any better he could have sworn that there was a tiny hint of protectiveness in the lawyer's voice. Interesting.

"Yes, we've already established that issue, Mr. Sarver, perhaps we should begin with just who was Laura Kline," Stinger cut to the bone once again. Honestly, did all lawyers beat around the bush like this moron? No wonder the court system was all fragged up. Stinger smiled internally. Leave it to Skywarp to have taught him all the basic intergalactic swear words. He vaguely wondered if that counted as making him multi-lingual. Probably not. His high speed, mental wandering was quickly interrupted by a derisive snort from the teenager. He threw another glance towards her, but she didn't offer any further comment. He looked again to Sarver.

A small smile tugged at the corner of the lawyer's lips and it was quite the predatory smile too. "You may not remember Mrs. Kline, Colonel Kesinger, but she remembered you quite well, every day in fact." He nodded slightly to the aloof child at his side. "She often said that she doubted you would ever remember her, especially since everything started back in your freshman year of college at Texas A&M."

A very puzzled expression crossed the ex-pilot's face. His brow creased into several, deep furrows and a few, normally invisible wrinkles made an appearance around his grey eyes. He turned his head away and down as his thoughts raced back to those so very distant memories.

A heavy silence descended upon the room. The silence seemed almost palpable. Suddenly, the air conditioning unit switched on, creating a dull roar in the background. The faint smell of spiced cinnamon wafted across the room, its source stemming from a couple of strategically placed potpourri jars in diagonal corners of the office. In the distance, the faint roar of jet engines could be heard over the din of the air conditioner. But nary a human voice broke the invisible stiffness that filled the room.

Stinger thought long and hard over the lawyer's cryptic words. Something was tickling the back of his mind, something that he knew he should know, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He thought hard on those memories, trying to dredge up what he had buried long ago. Then without warning it hit him.

"_Come on! It'll be fun!"_

"_I don't know—"_

"_No one will know. I've got the hall monitor's schedule down to a tee. We'll sneak in, have a little fun, I'll sneak you out and no one will be the wiser."_

_She smiled at him. "In and out?"_

"_I'll give you the best night of your life."_

_A slight pause. "OK."_

A flash of sandy blonde hair, the sweet, intoxicating smell of sweat pea and lavender, a darkened dorm room—it all came rushing back in an electrifying flood of once-forgotten memories.

"Oh, dear St. Pete!" Stinger whispered fiercely, "You've got to be shittin' me!" His grey eyes darted to Maria and back to Sarver.

"Remember now, Colonel?"

"Oh, God. Oh, damn! Oh, God!" Stinger began, breathless. He stood up, rubbing his temple irritably. He began to pace restlessly around the office, trying to comprehend this sudden revelation. He focused his attention on his daughter. As if reading his thoughts, Sarver spoke up once again.

"She already knows, Colonel. None of this comes as a surprise to her."

"As if I should care," Stinger heard a faint but mordant voice whisper under its breath.

The bitterness and hatred laced within those words were not overlooked by those present in the room, but for the time being, Stinger ignored his daughter and focused on her origins. "Laura Kline. The Laura Kline I knew back in college?"

Sarver nodded his head once. "The very same."

"Oh my God." Stinger stopped his pacing to spare Carla a glance. Her face was inquisitive, but not hostile as he had feared. God bless that woman! Slowly he made his way to the large, paned window and stared out across the airfield. He watched all the ant-like activity, but saw none of it. His thoughts were an F-5 tornado tearing through a trailer park. So much was swirling in his head. He continued to stare out the window, even as he spoke. "Why wasn't I made aware of this sooner?" he nearly whispered.

The question hung in the air for several long seconds, so long in fact, that it seemed as if the whole conversation had come to a screeching halt. Finally Sarver replied.

"She was a caring soul, Don. She knew your ambitions better than you did."

Another pregnant silence weighed heavily on the room. It seemed as if those present had finally run out of words to say and questions to ask. Surprisingly, it was Carla who broke the silence. "We've all been through much this past couple of days," she began, each word lightly accented with her Eastern European accent. "Let us retire to more private quarters to discuss such sensitive matters." Stinger turned and looked at his wife thoughtfully. Her suggestion had caught him slightly off guard. The slim redhead stood to her feet and took her husband by the arm. She gestured to Sarver and Maria to stand as well. "Come. I will prepare refreshments and introduce you to our home."

Sarver nodded tightly and gently beckoned Maria to walk before him as they exited the office. Stinger and Carla followed suit, the Colonel pausing briefly to lock his office. Then, together the party of four exited the building and made their way down the street, drawing several curious stares as they went.

* * *

Maria slowly entered the small, spare bedroom in the upper northeast corner of the two-story house. It was a quaint room, with three walls painted a nice shade of sage green and the one wall behind the sleigh bed's head board, a beautiful, light sand. The floor was aged, hardwood oak, the color of warm chestnuts. The centerpiece of the room, the bed, was dark cherry red with a flowery, burgundy and cream quilt comforter. A small pocket-door closet was nestled into the room's far right corner, directly beside it, a three-drawer maple dresser stained the same color as the bed. A large window with dark brown drapes decorated either side. Golden-colored, tasseled cords were tied around the drapes, pulling them gently away from the glass to allow the warm rays of the sun to fill the room.

But for Maria Kline, she was feeling anything but warm; in fact, all she felt was numbness. A cold, numbing sensation that had filled her soul ever since she received word her mother had been killed. The memory was as sharp and clear as a piece of broken glass. She had been laughing and gossiping with her friends during the school lunch break. Everything had been perfect then, until the principal came rushing up and demanded that she come with him. She remembered feeling confused and just a little perturbed. The principal had taken her to his office and without preamble told her the news—her mother had been killed in a car accident, DOA, dead-on-arrival. That was when the shock and the numbness had set in. Maria had no one else; it had always been just her and her mother. It had never dawned on her what would happen if that support in her life suddenly vanished.

Like a mindless zombie, she entered the room and slowly slid her backpack off her shoulder. The small, purple, black and yellow bag held what was left of her dearest possessions. She placed the bag on the neatly-made bed and meticulously pulled the zipper open. Her honey-blonde locks fell loosely around her face, but Maria paid little attention. The first item she withdrew from the bag was a small, leather-bound journal. She opened the worn cover and stared at the picture taped within. The worn photograph showed two young women, she with arms clasped around the elder's neck, a bright smile lighting her face. The elder woman had a smile identical to her daughter's, vibrant, chestnut-colored hair framing an oval face, with friendly, muddy-river brown eyes.

Why did she have to die? Why did God take away the only person who truly cared for her?

A single, solitary tear slowly slid down her cheek and plopped softly onto the comforter. She laid the bag and journal to the side and turned her head to stare out the window. The street was empty, just like her soul. A flash of anger shot through her grey eyes. Why did she have to come here!? Legally, this yahoo was her father, but that didn't mean she needed him! Not after all these years she and her mother had gotten along splendidly without him! She didn't need him then and she sure as hell didn't need him or his bitch now!

She did remember asking her mother why she didn't have a daddy like all her other friends. That had been when she was real young, almost four or five. Her mother had smiled in that special way and had told her she didn't have a daddy because her father had been summoned to fulfill a higher duty in life. Maria had translated that to mean he had better things to do than worry about them, even though her mother had never said that. In fact her mother had tried often to tell her about her father, but admittedly, Maria was never really interested in listening and she definitely wasn't going to start now.

She slowly set the bag off to one side of the bed and then curled up on the comforter, grey eyes staring blankly out the window.

* * *

Down in the small sitting room of the house, the three adults were discussing the teenager in depth. When everyone first entered the house, Carla had offered the guests some refreshments, but Maria had coldly turned her down insisting on knowing "where I'm going to stay in this hellhole." Not missing a beat, Carla gave the teen directions to her new bedroom and the three of them watched silently as Maria trudged up the stairs and disappeared through the doorway. As the bedroom door clicked closed, Sarver had only shaken his head and followed the couple to the sitting room.

"Besides being the representative, I'm sure the both of you are wondering what my connection is to Mrs. Kline and her daughter," Sarver stated suddenly, setting his coffee cup to one side.

"I must say it has crossed my mind once or twice," Stinger admitted, setting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward slightly.

"We met in law school. Laura told me she finished out the year before having Maria, took some time off and then came back to school as soon as she was able. She then applied for law school. I don't know how she did it, raising a child and all, but she did. She and I became close friends, but nothing more. In fact, I don't think she ever really dated anyone after having Maria, instead, putting all her concentration into raising that girl and making something of herself."

"I had no idea," Stinger whispered, still reveling in the fact he now had a daughter. "I would have helped her in any way I could."

"She didn't want you to, Colonel. Laura knew how important it was to you to finish school. She talked of you often actually."

"Still, I should have been there for them."

"Well, now you can, at least for Maria. It will take much time, but if any of what Laura said about you was true, you two will have more in common than you realize. Laura's death unfortunately, has left Maria with little. Many of the creditors and banks swooped in and took everything that my friend owned to cover her debts. All of Laura's family have already passed on and the only things Maria can call her own are all packed into that backpack. As far as I know, I'm the only one Laura confided in as to who was Maria's father. She had told me not too long ago, she was going to contact you, but judging by your surprise on the phone yesterday, I don't believe she did."

Stinger sighed heavily. "Obviously, no, she didn't."

"I understand if this comes as too much of a burden to you; if you want we could place the child in foster care so that she'll receive—" But Sarver never got the chance to finish his suggestion.

Stinger rose quickly, a smoldering fury in his eyes. "You will do well to not finish that sentence, Sarver. I may not have even known about my daughter's existence 24 hours ago, but by God, I will be damned before I allow anyone to take my own flesh and blood away from me," he hissed furiously. "At least give me the chance to be the father I was never given the opportunity to be."

Sarver remained silent before nodding his head and standing to his feet. "Very well, Colonel." He gathered his briefcase and coat, sensing his welcome was officially worn out. Together, he and Stinger began to walk to the front door. The lawyer cast one last look up the stairs before stepping out onto the porch, followed by the ex-pilot. "I trust I am leaving her in good hands, Colonel. If you need any help, please contact me. Here is my card." He handed Stinger a small, white business card.

Stinger glanced over it quickly before sliding it into his wallet. "No problem," he said, before shaking the lawyer's hand. "Thank you for taking care of her…and Laura."

"I didn't do it for you, Colonel Kesinger; I did it for Laura and Maria. Let's hope I'm not making a mistake." With that Sarver turned on his heel and left the house, walking down the street, around the corner and back towards the main gate. His slim figure was soon swallowed up by the large shade trees lining the street.

Satisfied that the lawyer had left, Stinger walked back into his home. He glanced anxiously up the staircase towards his new daughter's room, but ultimately decided to leave her alone for now. Carla met him in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes left over from their meeting.

"She is very bitter, Don," Carla began never looking up from her work. She turned on the faucet and began to wash her hands. "Let's not rush her. Losing a mother and gaining a father should never be considered a fair trade."

"No it isn't. Thank you for being so understanding, Carla; not many women would have taken this as well as you have." He walked up to her and wrapped his muscular arms around her torso, giving her a light peck on the neck as he did so.

"You forget, my love, that I am not an ordinary woman. I have seen much suffering in my lifetime and many unfair circumstance. It is not right for me to judge you on actions that took place long before we met."

True, but it's not fair for you to have deal with the consequences of those actions," he argued, pulling away and holding her lightly by the forearms. She smiled then, a beautiful, radiant smile that made his blood tingle with warmth.

"Life is not fair. Was it fair that the best pilot in the Air Force was forced to give up his dream in order for others to live? Was it fair that Dr. Doom took my family from me? But now look what has risen from the ashes of unjust action. We have lost greatly, but we have gained so much more."

Stinger smiled and kissed her forehead; such was the wisdom of a woman. They hugged tightly, each cherishing the feel of the other, temporarily lost in the moment—until Stinger's cell phone rang to the chorus of _Indestructible_ by Disturbed. _Funny. I don't have that as a ringtone on this phone. What in the hell?_

Irritably he broke from the embrace with his wife and flipped the annoying piece of technology open. It was a text message and the words on the screen were both relieving and worrying at the same time.

**Tomorrow. 1900 terrestrial hours. Your residence.**

**A/N: Guess Who?**


	3. The Reunion

**A/N: OMG! I finally updated! *gives self a cookie* Well guys, sorry it took so fragging long, but writer's block coupled with some major, mongo military entrance tests equals little time for updates. As promised, Skywarp returns in this chapter with more than a few tricks up his sleeve. Stinger continues to live the dreary reality of desk-dom, and a curious situation is taking place in the United States. All is not as it seems, so if you don't understand now, you will later. Enough rambling! Onward!!**

**Chapter 3: The Reunion**

_Knock. Knock._

The soft tap at her bedroom door slowly drew Maria back into the horrid reality she had come to realize was her life. She didn't bother to answer, in fact Maria didn't even bother to raise and turn her head as the door slowly opened and then clicked shut once more.

Stinger stood by the door, hesitation and utter confusion surrounding him like thick, low altitude cloud cover. If he needed to talk to a still-wet-behind-the-ear Butter Bar, there wasn't a point he couldn't get across; he could have a beer with airmen and staff sergeants or sip wine and champagne with colonels and generals. But here and now, faced with his own flesh and blood, Stinger found himself truly tongue-tied and at a total loss for words. He continued to study the prone form of his daughter, struggling to find the right words to say.

_Daughter. _

His mind was still having trouble trying to comprehend the word, even the concept surrounding that word. He was a father now. He was a father of a fifteen-year-old girl on the threshold of womanhood. How was he supposed to deal with this?

"Maria?"

There wasn't even so much as a twitch.

He sighed. "Maria, may I talk with you?"

She shifted her arms, which were folded under and pillowing her chin. Stinger took that as a sign that he had her attention so he continued, "Maria, I know this whole situation comes as a shock to you. It…it kinda of takes me by surprise as well. And I want you to know that if you need anything, don't be afraid to ask."

The girl never gave any indication that she heard; she continued to stare out the window like a portrait stares emptily across a sheet-covered room. He was just getting ready to speak again when he heard her voice--strained, tight and distant. "I did just fine without you then, and I'll be fine without you now."

He stared in shock for a moment, comprehending her words. They stung like alcohol poured into a flesh wound, but on some degree it was the attitude that he was expecting. He sighed heavily. Well, it wasn't as if he wasn't trying.

"Well, uh, just so you know dinner will be ready around six and you're welcome to walk around and get familiar with things around here in the meantime."

"No thanks."

"OK, then," he replied, turning to leave and preparing to close the door. At the last moment he opened the door once more and added, "Oh and by the way, we'll be having company later this evening, just so you know."

As he expected, there was no reply, so Stinger just gently closed the door and made his way back downstairs. He was filled with disappointment, but tried to not let it show. After all, she had only been here a little more than a day; he couldn't expect her to get all buddy-buddy with him right off the bat. But still, it didn't ease the stinging in his heart or the tiny, growing seed of dread that maybe, just maybe the damage was too great to repair.

* * *

The base was a hive of bustling activity; the hangars were the mecca of all the action and commotion. It was into this bustling, buoyant pot of activity that Wing Commander and Lieutenant Colonel Don Kesinger immersed himself. Inside the walls, circumstance, and dogmatic protocol, Stinger became an entirely different man. He carried his mantle of leadership with pride and bearing; hard and fair, just and straightforward, Stinger embraced the rigidity and formalness of the military system. The pressures of being a commander and the demands of his position allowed him to temporarily forget his troubles at home and forced him to concentrate on his problems at work. It was a temporary reprieve from an issue that would eventually demand his attention, but for now he threw himself into his duties with gusto. Hell, at this point he was even willing to chain himself to his desk and do paperwork for hours on end, if it would only take his mind off the last 24 hours.

But today, the colonel by-passed the hangars and made his way to the other side of the base. He shouted out his normal, cursory greetings to his men, but he didn't stop to make small talk—not now. Today he had a briefing to attend, a very important briefing and being one of the youngest members at said briefing had put the Lt. Colonel on edge.

Hastily he strode across the grounds, every once in a while exchanging words with one or the other of his aides. His sharp, grey eyes darted hither and to taking in all the activity, while his brain hastily began to make preparations for the meeting to come. A bright, yellow sun gently warmed everything around the base, but to Stinger, it felt more like a pressing heat engulfing him and inflaming the problem at hand. Finally, the trio of men entered a large, nondescript concrete building. They strode past a large, open foyer and down into a long, marble-floored hallway. Portraits of former generals, colonels, and staff lined both of the cream-colored, walnut-trimmed walls. They were men from all branches of service, all positions, and all timeframes. It gave the corridor a regal feeling, almost like walking on hallowed ground. Farther and farther they walked until they came to two, large black wooden double doors with two American flags standing sentry on either side.

With a purposeful air, Stinger opened one of the doors and walked inside, finding three other men seated at a large, dark-stained oval oak table. More portraits lined the walls along with stunning photographs of old warplanes from by-gone eras. A raised, carpeted platform was at the head of the room with a large podium dominating the center. The Stars and Stripes were standing in ornate flag holders off to either side, like guards standing sentry to the speaker.

The ex-pilot saluted smartly to the men in the room and then took his seat, an aide to either side; he then slapped his manila folder onto the table and began to pull his paperwork out onto the flat surface. Briefings with higher-ups always made Stinger a little edgy, but with his background as a fighter pilot he had learned to suppress any sign of nervousness a long time ago; after all, these men were human too and as far as he was concerned, the only thing separating him from these men were a few more years on the books and a few ounces of metal.

It wasn't too much longer before more and more high ranking officials began to file into the room and take their seats around the table. All were dressed in their finest uniforms, brass sparkling brightly in the florescent lights. The sound of shuffling papers filled the room and the low murmur of voices filled what was left of the silence as each man patiently waited for the briefing to begin. Stinger kept to himself and tried to talk as little as possible; he was much more interested in listening to the conversations around him than in participating in them. One could learn a hell of a lot, if one was only willing to listen.

Finally a door towards the far left of the platform opened and a very distinguished gentleman dressed in Air Force blues strode out onto the platform, three silver stars glinting on his shoulders. Instantly, everyman in the room rose and stood at attention, silence engulfing them like a transparent cloud. The general nodded his head and said in a deep, stately voice, "You may be seated." Like one, all the others re-took their seats and waited expectantly for Lieutenant General Cavanaugh to begin his speech. He cleared his throat noisily and then got right to business.

"Thank you for coming." The general's cold, blue eyes swept all the men in the room before he continued. "We're gathered here today to discuss plausible causes for the continuing diminishment of America's energy resources. Now then, as you know, the United States has been experiencing a net decrease of electric energy output over the past twelve months. This is in light of a near constant to slightly increasing demand of energy by our populace—a normal occurrence should one go back and review all those damn charts. Now gentlemen, my question is if our populace is using as much energy as to be expected, why in the hell is our system showing an energy drain?"

No one answered.

"And this phenomenon is not just showing up in the electrical grid. It's also showing up in fossil fuels, hydroelectric energy, green energy, and even nuclear energy. Hence why the President and the Pentagon is interested in finding the source of this trend. So far, the bleed has not been enough to cause us harm, but it has been noticeable and one can definitely see a trend if you go back and review the data output over the past ten years. Up until last year, everything was following a normal curve. Last year our analysts picked up on the discrepancy. With our nation's energy reserves potentially at stake, we need to know who or what is doing this and why." He stared hard at the crowd before him. "Do I have any suggestions as to where to start?"

"What about the Decepticons? Any word on their status?" a short, nearly balding colonel close to the head of the table asked.

"Nothing," another man spoke, this one sitting directly across from Stinger. His graying head shook side to side as if to emphasize his point. "Still no contact whatsoever. It's as if they finally left our planet for good. There hasn't even been so much as a radar return on them in over a year."

"Well, I think it's still a little too early to hope. But nothing you say? Even in other countries?" Cavanaugh pressed.

"No sir. No energy raids. No engagements, Autobot or human. Nothing. The Decepticons have never really been the subtle type anyways and this current situation doesn't fit their hallmark. I think we're dealing with someone else entirely."

"Well, speaking of the Autobots, what about them? Have we checked them out?" a skinny, tooth pick-like man piped up.

A slow murmur broke out over the table before another replied. "We've checked their energy requests and their records. There is no known increase in their records. They're clean."

"So my next question is, are we dealing with a foreign, human enemy?" Cavanaugh prompted.

"It's certainly likely, sir," a woman's voice spoke, Brigadier General Katrina O'Reilly. Her silvery-blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun and a harsh, almost abrasive look gleamed in her brown eyes. "We've been keeping tabs on Russia, China, Symkeria and even Latveria, but so far we have found nothing to directly link them to our current problem, but we will keep looking, Sir."

The meeting dragged on like this for hours. Everyone tossing out suggestions, cross referencing the information and beating the idea down until in it no longer resembled a coherent thought. It was a grave and serious problem, one that could directly threaten their national security. If it worsened, the United States could face a very serious energy crisis and with the national debt skyrocketing the country couldn't count on foreign allies to come and bail them out. But they were no closer to finding a solution now than they were six months ago. Stinger listened with an interested air, but kept his thoughts to himself. After all, he was the lowest ranking and youngest member on this panel; it was best to listen for now and keep his opinions to himself. But there had been one little tidbit of news that left him deeply troubled; however, like everything else he swiftly buried it under years of experienced poise. Finally, after six hours of debate the Lieutenant General dismissed his officers and allowed everyone to leave the premises. Once again, no solution had been found.

As Stinger made his way back down the corridor, he checked his watch—1845 hours. Skywarp would be arriving soon, although how in the hell the purple and black jet was to arrive at Edwards was beyond Stinger's comprehension. The air base had security as tight as the President's and even the faintest trace of disturbance would set the base over the edge. It would be interesting to see just how the mischievous prankster would be able to pull this visit off.

Stinger quickly mounted the steps to his house and opened the door. "Carla! Maria! I'm home!" he called loudly, setting his briefcase off to one side and stepping out of the foyer. Several seconds later his wife appeared, wiping her hands with a cream-colored dish towel. She walked up to him and gave him a quick kiss and then stepped back, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"What?" he asked, cocking his head curiously.

"There's someone here to see you," she said simply, "A Lieutenant Ray Prawsky?" She raised a red eyebrow curiously.

"Ray Prawsky?" Stinger repeated and then it dawned on him. "Wait one cotton-pickin' minute!" He dashed by his wife and into the kitchen. Nearly falling face-first onto the floor as he struggled to stop his momentum, his grey eyes fell upon a person lounging in a chair, feet propped on the dining room table.

"Hey there, fleshy! Glad to see me?" the mystery person asked in a faintly familiar voice. His brown eyes carried an impish glint and a small smirk was pulling at the corner of his lips. His hands were laced nonchalantly behind his head and he acted as if he owned the place instead of the man staring at him.

"What…in…the hell!?" Stinger whispered faintly. "SKYWARP?"

"Who else were you expecting, squish? The Easter Hare?"

Stinger laughed despite himself. "It's the Easter Bunny, you moron! And no I wasn't expecting anyone else, it's just that…"

"My deceptively good looks took you by surprise?" Skywarp finished for him while standing to his feet. He motioned down his humanized body, palms up and open, a cocky grin splitting his face. He was tall, nearly 6'2" if Stinger had to hazard a guess and had a physique that would melt nearly any single woman's heart. His shoulders were broad and muscular, even under the Air Force uniform, Stinger could see the muscles bulging and straining the fabric beneath. His waist was narrow and flowed down to two powerfully built legs, easily hidden in the pressed blue dress pants of the uniform but Stinger wasn't fooled by the shapeless fabric. Skywarp's build was muscular, but far from being bulky. Where some men's physique resembled the power and brute strength of a bull or bear, Skywarp's was more like a stallion or even an eagle, lithe, graceful—full of power and deadly hidden talent. His face was youthful, perhaps early twenties, with a shock of sandy brown hair neatly shaved into a crew cut and brown eyes that promised lots of mischief and buffoonery.

Stinger stepped up to his old friend, who stood several inches taller than himself. He was at a loss. "Skywarp, man, it's so good to see you again." He took another hesitant step forward as if he were afraid the image before him would disintegrate any minute.

"Awe, all right! Just this one time, squish," Skywarp grumbled playfully and motioned for his human friend to come closer. He enveloped Stinger in a bear-like hug for several seconds before he released him and they both took a step back.

Stinger appraised Skywarp once more and just shook his head. "So, how in the hell? I mean, what's up with this?" He gently grabbed the fabric of Skywarp's uniform and tugged gently, grey eyes still baffled by the sight of his friend.

"Wouldn't _you_ like to know!" Skywarp teased back as he retook his seat. Carla re-entered the kitchen and placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of her husband before she took a seat as well.

Stinger leveled Skywarp with an expectant look.

"Oh, all right, I'll tell ya," he grinned again lounging back into the chair and re-positioning his feet on the table. Neither Carla nor Stinger objected; after all, it wasn't often you had an alien visitor in your home. Why get technical? "It's been almost two terrestrial years in the making, but Shockwave and Starscream did it."

"Did what?"

"This," Skywarp motioned to his body once again. "It's ah…ah…a holomatter generator? I think that's what Screamer called it, anyway it's some sort of device that allows me to look and feel like this. I can now go anywhere you insects can, not that I ever really want to, but hey, it came in handy for this situation."

"A holomatter generator?" Stinger repeated. "Sounds like something straight out of Star Wars, but with you guys, I don't find it at all surprising. But what about your real body? Where's it at?" Stinger asked a tiny twinge of concern in his voice. The last thing he needed to happen was for an MP to find an unauthorized jet on the base, or worse, off the base hidden nearby.

Skywarp waved a hand dismissively. "Screamer and Shocky took care of that too. The generator thingy can cloak our bodies with a holographic image of nearly anything we want so long as it's a similar size. For instance, my body is about thirty miles north of here cloaked as a large boulder in the desert. Your all's sensor arrays still aren't the greatest, so it wasn't that difficult for me to sneak in under the radar. I just chose to play it safer than normal in case anything went wrong here. As for how I'm able to be thirty miles away from my body…" he shrugged," that's technical stuff Screamer's gonna have to explain to you. All I know is that machine of his somehow transfers our spark energy into a solid, projectable mass, triangulates it using _your _satellites, if necessary, and then beams the image along with our spark energy wherever we want to be."

Stinger's eyes widened. "So in essence your metal body is empty and you're here?"

Skywarp rocked his head side to side, eyes rolled up thoughtfully. "Yeah, that's about right."

"But what if someone finds your body? Then what?" Stinger pressed, clearly fascinated by this new development.

"Oh, I'll know if anyone's tampering with me," Skywarp said. "Don't know how exactly, but Screamer said I'd know. But it's not like I'm gonna make a habit of being this far away from myself; you're the exception as far as I'm concerned."

"Damn Warp! You boys have been busy the last two years; no wonder we haven't seen hide nor hair of you," Stinger said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Another thought struck him. "I never took Starscream for the inventive type," he commented off-handly.

"Oh, he was one of Cybertron's best scientists before the War. It's just that Megatron never gave him a scientific assignment until recently," Skywarp answered with a shrug of his shoulders.

Stinger took the information and filed it away in his mind; it was something to remember for later. He wouldn't grill Skywarp about it now. They had too much catching up to do. "So how is Screechy and TC doing these days?" he asked, taking a sip of coffee.

"Same old, same old. Screamer's doing his slaggin' best to off Megatron, and me and TC just stand back and tell him 'I told you so' every time he fails. TC asks about ya every once in a while and Screamer, well, let's just say that Screamer has told me on more than one occasion you'd _almost_ make a better wingmate than me."

Stinger grinned. "Yeah well, we never did have our little competition, did we?"

"Competition?" Skywarp echoed and then _pffed_. "Fleshy, _do not_ even go there! I'd hate to hand your aft to you; it would be embarrassing actually. When was the last time you actually flew?" he taunted.

Stinger's grey eyes iced over, but his grin never faded. "Flying a bird is like riding a bike; you never forget. Just because I'm flying a desk now, doesn't mean I can't go out there right now and shove your tailfins up your afterburners. One day, Warp…one day."

They stared at each other for a minute before exchanging smirks. "So how about yourself, squish? Besides pushing pencils, what's been happening with you? I see you've also been promoted of late," he gestured at the silver leaf on Stinger's uniform collar.

"Yeah, got that about a year ago. One thing about the Air Force, the higher you go the less you fly. That's the one thing I hate about this job. But the military's been good to us, so I'm not going to complain too much." And then a troubled look crossed his face. "And I recently, found out that I'm a father."

"A father, you mean like a creator of another human?" Skywarp asked, confusion rippling across his handsome human features.

"Uh, yeah, something like that, Warp. Hell, at this point, I'm just as confused as you," Stinger said, running a hand down his worn face.

Skywarp looked over at Carla and then back to Stinger. He repeated this motion a couple times over before he spoke again, "So, what's the problem? I may not be an expert, but I thought human mates liked the idea of pro-creating together."

"It's a little more complicated than that, Skywarp," Carla began. "Stinger's daughter is the result of a relationship that occurred far before my time with him, before any of us ever met."

"So you're not her—" Skywarp stumbled over his question, but it seemed that Carla understood.

"No, I'm not her mother-creator, as you would say, but that doesn't mean I'm going to treat her as if I didn't give birth to her. She is my husband's daughter, so therefore she is my daughter as well. Her mother was recently killed in a car accident, and up until this point Stinger and I had no idea of her existence. A friend of Maria's mother brought her to us and informed us of the circumstances. So, we've agreed to keep her and raise her, but it will be very difficult. The loss of her biological mother, coupled with the fact of recently discovering a father she had never known has been quite a shock to the girl. She is very bitter."

Skywarp remained quiet as he mulled over Carla's words. He had immediately liked Stinger's sparkmate the moment they met almost two-years ago. She was fiery, spirited and wasn't afraid to speak her mind, not to mention that if it hadn't been for her, Stinger may have never been able to free him from Doom's clutches. He liked a femme that could stand on her own two thrusters and had expressed his approval to Stinger when he had first met her. He finally looked at Stinger and Carla in turn and said, "Well, I wish you guys the best of luck, but I'm not too sure what a fierce Decepticon warrior, such as myself, can do in this situation. It's a little out of my realm of experience."

"Ah, don't worry about it, Warp. We just wanted you and the guys to be aware of the situation," Stinger sighed, finishing off his coffee, but then he leaned forward. "But can I ask something of you?"

Skywarp's countenance became guarded, but he nodded his head anyway.

"You've been the closest thing to a friend I've had in a long time, Warp, and I don't like to ask favors of anyone. But now that I have Maria to look after…well, it's changed things a lot. Carla and I, we can take care of ourselves, but Maria…she doesn't know the half of what we've been through or the enemies we've made over the years. I'm worried that if any one of them discovers her relationship to me, they'll take advantage of that—"

"--So you want me to keep an optic on things," Skywarp finished for him. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. For once his face was unreadable.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Stinger answered, averting his gaze. "I don't trust our system, Skywarp. There're too many loopholes—"

"And yet you're willing to trust a _Decepticon_? Stinger, have you not learned anything after working with me?" he asked, half-seriously.

Stinger ignored him and continued on, "Skywarp, they never found Doom's body. When they excavated the site, there wasn't even a trace of him and I'll probably never rest easy until I either kill him myself or watch you or one of your buddies tear him limb from limb."

Skywarp raised his hands and his dark brown eyes temporarily flashed a brilliant crimson. "Wait a minute. You said they never found that glitchheaded human's body!? He should have been vaporized!"

Stinger nodded solemnly. "I know."

"Son of a glitch! Wait until Screamer hears this. How long have you known?"

"Found out today in a meeting with the higher-ups." Stinger chose not to elaborate on the exact topic of the meeting; some information was best left unsaid.

Skywarp grunted to himself as he processed this new and disturbing information. Finally he replied, "No problem, Stinger. We gave you that token for a reason. You're like one of us now, and that includes your family. Although…" he trailed off, "does she know about us?" he asked, motioning between the three of them.

"If by us you mean our friendship, then no, she doesn't."

"Well, let's keep it that way," Skywarp suggested, "For now, we'll just say I'm a friend of the family, which isn't a total lie," he shrugged.

Relief washed over Stinger like a high tide. "Thanks Warp. Would you like to meet her?"

"Sure. Why not? At least I'll have a picture and her basic biological signature down. Where is she?"

"She's upstairs; let me go get her," Stinger said quickly as he rose from his seat and left the dining room. It wasn't a minute later that he returned, followed by a very reluctant-looking adolescent female. Skywarp quickly stood and performed a mock bow, mischief shining in his eyes.

"Good evening! You must be Maria," he said smoothly, taking her hand and kissing it gently. The gesture wasn't missed by Stinger or Carla. The ex-pilot merely rolled his eyes in mild exasperation and Carla stifled a giggle. Warp was a charmer; that was for sure.

Maria withdrew her hand as if it had brushed something particularly slimy, her face wrinkling into a scowl; however, when the young officer before her once again raised his eyes, her face was as indecipherable as a Rubric's Cube. "Uh, nice to meet you too, Mr. er, uh—" she hesitated.

"Lieutenant. Lieutenant Ray Prawsky," Skywarp finished for her. "Your father is a very lucky hu—I mean man to have a…daughter…as beautiful as you." The officer's cheeks flushed for just a second. That had been a little too close. But if Maria had noticed, she didn't give any indication.

"Uh, well…it was nice meeting you, but if you don't mind, I have some things to do back upstairs," and before anyone could say anything else, she had whirled around, honey-blonde hair fanning around her, and dashed back upstairs. The sound of a door slamming effectively ended that introduction.

"Not too sociable, is she?" Warp drawled, casting a lazy look back at his friend.

"You have no idea," Stinger ground out, covering his face with his palms. But Skywarp was quick to change the subject and it wasn't very long after that the two soon found themselves neck deep in conversation about flight maneuvers, the newest prototypes, dogfights of old and a whole host of other aviation-related topics. They chatted away for several hours, until it was nearly 10:30 that night.

Finally Skywarp rose and bid his good friends farewell, giving Stinger one last rib-crushing hug and Carla a quick peck on the cheek. In all honesty, the purple Seeker blended into human society all too well and if Stinger hadn't known any better, he would have never been able to tell the difference.

The sound of the front door opening and closing, roused Maria from her book. Her grey eyes glanced over at the clock on her nightstand and read the time. _'Bout time he left_, she thought sourly. But despite herself, she rose off the bed and glanced out the front window of her bedroom. Sure enough the young officer was just making his way down the stone-flag stoop of the house and out into the street. Most of the lights were off in the neighborhood since many who lived here were early risers. Maria watched the man called Prawsky curiously; he just stood in the middle of the small street, looking first in one direction and then in another. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure no one was watching him. _How odd_, she mused.

And then a most peculiar thing occurred. As she watched from her upstairs bedroom window, the young officer checked the neighborhood one last time and then disappeared in a quick flash of muted, purple light. He had vanished. Maria gasped and backed away from the window, dropping the drapes as if they were hot metal. _What in the hell!?_ She thought. _Surely, I just imagined that; I had to. No one can just disappear like that unless they were a magician! It's just not possible!_ She stood for several seconds, stunned by what she had seen. She shook her head disbelievingly and attempted to resume her favorite pastime activity.

Laying back down on the bed in a kind of slow stupor, Maria tried desperately to re-engross herself back into her novel. It worked to some extent, but as midnight slowly drew around the corner and she flicked her lights off to go to bed, the last thought to cross her mind was that of the remarkably handsome officer she had met and the mysterious disappearing act he had pulled before her eyes. There was something very strange about Lieutenant Ray Prawsky.


	4. Burning Bridges

**A/N: OK, so let me know if things are moving a little too fast. As an author, it's hard for me to judge. But anywho, here's the next chappy. A cookie to those who find the throw-back character from the last story! Just to warn you, this is a character-building chapter, but one vitally necessary to set the scene for things to come, so read carefully! Things are gonna get real prickly, real fast so hold onto your tailfins!**

**Chapter 4: Burning Bridges**

_**Two Weeks Later…**_

"And so…Once you have simplified the equation to its simplest form we can now attempt to move _X_ over to one side of the equals sign…"

_Dear God! Will this class never end!? _Maria thought tiredly as she allowed her forehead to plop silently down onto the desk, her upright, monstrous Algebra II textbook shielding her action from Mr. Woodson's view. _I swear, Ben Stein could teach this class with more enthusiasm than this._ For the third time in as many minutes, Maria sighed in exasperation. It wasn't that she hated math; on the contrary it was one of her favorite subjects. But Maria had quickly discovered that an engaging teacher made all the difference in the world and Mr. Woodson was anything but.

Once again she allowed her mind to wander back to that mysterious night when her fathe…no…Stinger's friend had mysteriously disappeared in the middle of the street. It was a curious little scene that had repeated itself numerously over the past two weeks, and it was something she absolutely refused to bring to Stinger's attention. Her biological father or not, she didn't want to have to speak to him any more than necessary. She still wrestled with the idea of having a _father_; she and her mother had gone for so long without a man in either of their lives that Maria felt she really didn't need one, so why bother? Why get close to someone if it only meant they'll leave you? Stinger had left her mother to fend for the both of them and then her mother had been taken by a drunk driver. What was the point? Maria choked back a bitter laugh. God had such a cruel sense of humor in giving her a father she didn't want and taking a mother that was all she needed.

Another sigh. At least things had settled into a somewhat tolerable routine. She would wake-up, eat a silent breakfast with Carla, go to school, come home, do her homework and then if there was any time left, she would sneak off to the airfield and watch the aircraft take-off and land until the sun went down. That was one advantage to being the Lt. Colonel's daughter—the ability to go where she wanted without too much of a fuss. Besides, watching all the different aircraft land, take-off, and taxi was relaxing in a way. Not many would find the ear-splitting shriek of jet turbine engines relaxing, but Maria was fascinated by the thought that for such large pieces of man-made machinery, they could fly so gracefully through the air. Aerodynamics intrigued her and she loved watching it in action.

She rarely saw Stinger and she planned it that way. So much the better. It was bad enough she had to spend her mornings with Carla, but at least the redheaded woman gave her the space she asked for and never pried to deeply. Maria could respect that. Stinger on the other hand…well, let's just say he was a little more inquisitive into her daily doings when he saw her.

"And finally, we are ready to solve the equation. Maria, could you give us the answer please?" Mr. Woodson's voice broke into her reverie.

"Huh? Oh, yes. The answer is X = 37," Maria supplied somewhat hastily. _Good thing I had that one worked out five minutes ago,_ she thought.

Mr. Woodson scowled at having been thwarted once more. Try as he might, he could never catch Maria day-dreaming even though he knew she did it day in and day out. That girl was too smart for her own good. "That is correct, Miss Kline," he replied grudgingly only to receive a smug smirk in return. His scowl deepened. _The nerve of some of these kids!_

_RRRIIINNNGGG!!!_

The bell echoed loudly as classes ended for the day. Hundreds of students flooded out of the doorways and to the lockers lining the hallways eager to escape the prison that was deemed a necessary evil to their society. Maria took her time; it wasn't as if she had any reason to rush home after all. She gathered her books and left the classroom carefully navigating the jostling bookbags and swinging messenger bags of her fellow school mates. She stopped next to her locker, opened the door with slow deliberateness and placed her unnecessary texts on the bottom shelf. When she closed the door, she was startled to find Marcus Donahue sidled up next to her on the other side.

"Hey baby!" He said in a chipper voice. "Got any plans later this evening?" He asked innocently, a large grin parting his lips.

"Yes, I do," she replied curtly, "And they don't involve you!" She turned sharply on her heel and proceeded to walk down the hallway. _Jerk._

"Awe, come on sweet thing! Why do you have to be like that?" She heard him plea behind her. _Honestly, do all men have a listening problem or just the ones who wear football jerseys? _"I'll buy you dinner!"

_I'll give you a black-eye! And it'll be for free! _"No thanks!" she called while never looking back. But it wasn't long that she heard hurried footsteps trying to catch up with her. "Ah, come on Maria. Why not? Come on; my treat," he beseeched her, tagging along at her elbow.

She gave him a fierce, condescending glare as she replied, "What part of 'no' do you not understand?" She briskly walked out the door and down the steps trying her hardest to outpace Donahue and praying desperately that he would take the hint already.

"Don't you know how many girls would love for me to be asking _them_ out right now?"

"Oh, really? So why don't you go find _one of them_ and ask them out and leave me the hell alone!" After several strides, Marcus finally stopped following her and watched her disappear around the corner, her abrupt answers having no damper on his persistence.

"One day, Maria! One day you _will_ go out with me and enjoy it!"

_Whatever. Dream on._ She kept on walking. It wasn't that she didn't find Marcus Donahue unattractive, no, he was quite a catch. Maria just didn't care for a guy who thought he was God's gift to women. Ever since she began attending Desert High School the Varsity football player had his eye on her. With sharp green eyes, chestnut-colored hair and an athletic build, sports play came easy to Donahue, as did the grades; he was as sharp in the books as he was on the field. But he also had an immaculate record as a heartbreaker as well. Hence, her disdain and his continuous pursuit to woo her.

It was on the lonely walk back home that Maria's thoughts once again drifted to her father's mysterious, disappearing friend. He was quite the looker too, and charming in that bashful, shy kind of way. Suddenly the girl shook her head as if she'd been slapped. _Did I just think that?_ _Ewwe!! _

But despite her best efforts, her mind kept flirting back to that brief meeting and the even briefer sight of Lt. Ray Prawsky pulling his disappearing act. Something just wasn't right with that whole picture. Men couldn't just up and disappear, could they? Well, unless their wives were mad at them, but still—to do it literally?

Hmmm. Maria re-shouldered her satchel and strode up the steps of her house. She barely heard Carla express a greeting, her mind and attention elsewhere. Thank God it was Friday; homework could wait until Sunday. For the time being she only wanted to retreat to her favorite spot and watch the jets take-off into the sunset.

* * *

_**Washington D.C.**_

"Are you sure?"

"Who or what else could be causing this, Mr. President? We've never had an energy crisis escalate to this magnitude before. I would almost bet my next year's salary that the Decepticons are behind this."

"But there hasn't been any evidence indicating such."

"With all due respect Mr. President, they are Decepticons, alien invaders hell bent on taking over our planet. Must we really wait to prove their innocence or guilt?"

"I understand what you're saying, Mr. Castlehoff, but the Decepticons have been under the radar for quite some time and I'm really not too keen into provoking them into attacking."

"But Mr. President don't you see? They already are! They're sucking this nation dry of energy resources and we're just sitting here doing nothing! Our national security is at stake, sir. And if we don't take action soon, we very well may never be able to."

"So what do you propose we do, Castlehoff? Usher in the next era of the Apocalypse?"

"No sir, not the Apocalypse. Now I've already spoken with General Garrison on this matter and he concurs with me. If we can attack them first, catch them by surprise when they're not expecting us to attack, then we stand a fairly good chance of dealing them a fatal blow."

"A fatal blow? Mr. Castlehoff, nothing in our arsenal could be considered powerful enough to deal 'a fatal blow.' That and we don't have any idea where on this planet those metallic monstrosities are hiding; not even the Autobots know."

At this point, the other man grinned knowingly. "Well now sir, I think it's time you need to meet with me and your Chiefs of Staff."

* * *

_**Edwards AFB**_

The sun was setting in blaze of fire on the western horizon. Off in the distance two F-15 Eagles were streaking skyward into the sunset, waves of heat shimmering across the air in their wake. Maria nestled herself against the trunk of the tree and idly added a few more defining lines onto the sketch in front of her. It was an F-15 in flight, gracefully flying between two towers of billowy, white cumulus clouds miles above the problems and worries that plagued all Earth dwellers. The teen sat back and observed her handy work, a small grin pulling at one corner of her mouth. Not too shabby for never trying a jet before. Suddenly, a slight shuffling noise from behind her quickly caused the girl to turn in alarm.

"Easy kiddo," Stinger said soothingly as he crouched down on his heels next to her, "Didn't mean to startle you."

Maria huffed with annoyance and rolled her eyes. Great. This was all she needed, her washed-up, wanna-be father coming to spoil the one small moment of peace in her life. "What do _you_ want?"

Stinger raised his brows at her harsh tone, but opted not to call her out on it. "Well, nothin', hon. Nothin'. I just thought I might find you here while I was on my way back to the house."

For a time, the two sat in heavy silence, listening to the roar of jet engines in the distance and watching all the different aircraft taxi to and from the various hangars and outbuildings. But what was once a peaceful silence was quickly turning into suffocating tension. Finally after almost five excruciating minutes of quiet , Stinger spoke up.

"You know, when I first got reassigned here, I used to come to this very same spot and do just what you're doing now."

"Stare out into nothing?" Maria sniped. She refused to look at him, choosing instead to stare vacantly out over the small expanse.

"You know what I meant," he said. It was then he reached into his pocket and withdrew the small bronze-colored token with the Seeker's crest on its face. He turned it over and over, studying its every detail, grey eyes warm with remembrance. Maria glanced over and despite her better judgement, the strange coin caught her attention.

"What's that?" she asked quietly, nodding to the coin in Stinger's hand.

"This? Well this was given to me by an old friend of mine," Stinger answered, rubbing a forefinger over the metal's smooth face.

"One of your Army friends?" Maria pursued, pretending to turn her attention back to her drawing.

"Air Force," he corrected gently, "and yes, you might say that." He smiled knowingly to himself. If she only knew.

"Is that why you still carry it around with you?" She began adding some shading to the jet's wingtips, all the while keeping her attention on the sketchpad.

Stinger suppressed his surprise. He hadn't expected for Maria to notice something like that. She was paying more attention to things than he would normally give her credit for. "Yeah, something like that. It means a lot to me and I want to keep it close—like I would like to do to you."

Maria snorted derisively. "Spare me your sentimentality." She stood up and closed her sketch book with finality and for the first time since their conversation, looked Stinger in the eye. "I'm not going to be here long enough for you to waste it." And with that she turned on her heel and marched off the hill, leaving him still crouched in the same position, the coin still idly rolling across his fingers. He gave a tired sigh. Was she ever going to accept him?

* * *

With honey-colored hair fanning out behind her, Maria took the steps two at a time as she hustled up the stairwell to her room. Tears were threatening to spill down her cheeks and the sooner she made it to that safe haven the better. As soon as she cleared the last step she dashed into her room and flung herself on the bed, not even noticing that her bedroom door had failed to latch all the way.

She sobbed silently into her pillow, allowing all the frustration, all the anger, sadness, and despair to cascade down her cheeks. God, she missed her so much! Life was so much simpler when Mom was still alive. Why did He take her away? Why?

A perfect storm of emotions was tearing her up inside. She wanted to hate him; she wanted to hate Stinger for all that time he was never in her life. She wanted to hate him now for trying to make it up to her. But she just couldn't. And therein lay all the frustration, all the anger, and all the rejection, all the denial. Even after the way she had been treating him, he still talked to her, still tried to involve her in his life, still tried to show her love. It was tearing her up inside.

A fresh wave of tears streamed down her flushed cheeks and into the pale cream pillow. In a sudden fit of frustration she pounded her two small fists into the pillow's downy soft center. Her voice, muffled by the pillow, barely reflected the despair and turmoil roiling around within her. She cried long into the evening, wishing everything was as it used to be and drowning in sorrow over what really was.

* * *

_**The next morning…**_

Stinger stared at his conference phone with ever growing dread. It was getting close to the end of his work day (a short day, thank God!) and he had one more conference call to make it through before he could call it quits. Unfortunately for him this last call was with the Secretary of Defense, a man with whom he could go his whole life and be happy never speaking with him again. Although why in the world the SecDef wanted a private word with him was anyone's guess. But one thing was for sure, if the SecDef did want to talk to him—and he did—then Stinger would almost bet his rank that the news would be anything but good.

_Rriinngg! Rriinngg!_ The shrill cry of the telephone interrupted his musings. _Oh, boy_. With a steady hand that could only come from years of experience in a cockpit, Stinger reached over and answered the phone, "Lt. Colonel Kesinger."

"Is this the infamous Colonel Kesinger of the Latverian Fiasco?" a smooth, suave voice asked over the teleconferencing line. Stinger cringed. The only time anyone made reference to his previous feats in that God damn country was when they wanted something—bad—and this was shaping up to look like just the case. _Why am I not surprised?_

"It is. What can I do for you Mr. Secretary?" Secretary of Defense Bob Castlehoff—a man about as useful to this country as a rain gauge in the Mohave Desert. Stinger had no use for the arrogant bastard; he was a man on a power trip and screw anyone who stood in his way. Not exactly someone Stinger wanted to report to, but like some issues in the military he faced, he really didn't have a choice.

"Ah! You're just the man I've been wanting to talk to."

"Glad I can be at your service," Stinger added, although he didn't mean a word of it. SecDef Castlehoff wasn't exactly on his list of friendlies and the sheer fact that this man had requested a private phone conversation with him had already put the Colonel on a razor's edge. Nothing this man needed from him could spell anything good.

"Good! Good! I was so hoping." Beat. "You know, Colonel, it has been brought to my attention that you once had very close dealings with some old friends of ours," Castlehoff continued.

"Well that depends, sir. What friends are you implying?" Stinger asked as he wearily dragged his fingers through his hair. Normally his office felt warm and welcoming, but right now he wanted nothing more to do than to bolt like a deer for the thicket.

"Decepticon friends, Colonel," the suave voice replied. Stinger's blood chilled. This wasn't good. No one was to bring this issue back up, even the SecDef; it was supposed to be a closed file.

"What of it, sir?" he asked cautiously. _Don't panic. See how much he knows first. If you get all fidgety they're bound to jump on you._

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we Colonel? I know that you used to be on 'friendlier' terms with some of those metal monstrosities than most of us here in Washington. And with the energy crisis getting worse we need to make the most of every possible link we have. I want you to get in contact with your 'old friends.'"

"Sir, with all due respect, if I were to do what you ask they'd more than likely vaporize me. Latveria was a one-time deal," Stinger countered. _Play it safe._

"Oh, I don't think that's the case, Colonel," Castlehoff said, "You know, I think those metal heads have a soft spot for you."

"What makes you say that, sir?" _This isn't lookin' good._

"Well, Colonel Kesinger, I've been doing a bit of research on my own here lately and I find it mighty curious that over the past three years or so, your operational squadron has the least amount of casualties whenever engaged with the Decepticon Air Attack Forces. Now seein' as how three of the top Decepticon lieutenants were the ones to get you out of Latveria safely so many years previous, someone as smart as me would have to say there's a little more than coincidence at work here, now isn't there? Do you catch my drift Colonel?"

Stinger's blood instantly went from chilled to frozen. So someone had seen the numbers and of all people to call him on it it would have to be Castlehoff. But why now? Why bring this up now? What did Castlehoff have in store?

"OK, what do you want, Castlehoff?" Stinger asked pointedly, calling the SecDef by name.

"It's simple, Kesinger. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you have been maintaining relations with the Decepticon Command Trine. Being Secretary of Defense has its perks, after all. Now, most people in Washington would consider such dealings as—treason—at the very worst. You know, consorting with the enemy, potential spying, fraternizing…a whole host of charges that I know you don't want to happen to you."

"And your point is?" Stinger challenged, although he felt his blood freeze within his veins. _Is this really happening? How in the hell did he know?_

"Don't cock an attitude with me, Colonel. You're in a very precarious position from where I'm sitting and the only reason you aren't being tried for treason now is because your 'expertise' so to speak, is needed."

"Needed?" Stinger scoffed. "In case you didn't know, Mr. Secretary, _they _contact me; not the other way around and it's not a particularly healthy thing to ignore Decepticons when they contact you, but I'm sure you already knew that."

The ex-pilot heard the other man chuckle darkly. "Who contacts who is of little importance to me, Colonel. What is important is that you _do _have contacts within the Decepticon ranks, rather high contacts at that, and I say you will use those contacts to help us resolve this energy crisis."

"Is that what this is all about? The energy crisis? Do you honestly believe that the Decepticons are behind this?" Stinger asked, anger beginning to flush his cheeks.

"Do you honestly believe that they're not? Although I don't know why I'm acting so surprised—what with you being a Decepticon sympathizer and all," Castlehoff said acidly.

"Just because I was forced to work with one seven years ago to get out of a bad situation alive, doesn't mean I'm willing to throw my lot in with an alien race hell bent on destroying my country, not to mention my planet. Now, I was told that that incident was reviewed, analyzed and deemed forgiven seven years ago. Why in the hell are you throwing this in my face?" Stinger began shaking his head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. That was all in the past; he'd been hailed as a hero for crying out loud. Why was this bastard trying to turn the tables on him?

"Just because you were pardoned seven years ago for that 'incident' doesn't forgive you for your fraternizations since then, Colonel. You can't deny them."

"Yeah, well you can't prove them!"

"Care to test that theory?" Castlehoff fired back. "Now listen up Colonel; I'm gonna give you an option. Either you tell us where your Decepticon friends are hiding out or I'm going to instantaneously make you Public Enemy Number One in the eyes of all your friends and family, not to mention the American public. And in your case, I'll ensure that the truth will be your undoing."

Stinger remained quiet. His day had gone from zero to Hell in under ten seconds and he was at a loss for what to do. _Can this really be happening?_ _Come up with something, anything, to stall for time. Gotta think this through. Got to._ _But I can't betray them, hell no! Shit, I don't even know where their base is! I guess this is my defining moment. God help me and my family._

"Sir, I don't know what you think you're going to gain by blackmailing me, but what I can assure you is this: If this is how you choose to reward my loyalty to service of country then and now, consider this notification of my resignation."

"I understand, Colonel. So be it, but you might want to start considering your new role as an enemy of the state." _Click._

Stinger slowly slid the receiver back into its cradle. What the hell was he going to do now? He slowly stood and ran a hand through his hair. He had just gone from unsung hero to public enemy number one in all the time it took to say "Bob's your uncle." _I knew there was a reason I despised Castlehoff, that lying, two-faced son of a bitch! _Well, first things first. Carla needed to know about this. From there the two of them could develop a plan and figure out what their next move was. But whatever they were going to do, they better do it and do it quickly. Time was now critical.

Giving up Skywarp and the Trine was out of the question. Even if he knew where they were, Stinger would risk imprisonment before turning over his friends. He withdrew the coin and fingered the tiny homing button. _Not now. Not yet. Never use your ace in the hole this early in the game. _As the old pilot slid the coin back into his pocket and prepared to leave his office, he felt a strong sense of satisfaction in knowing he made the right decision. Skywarp and his pals may be on the opposite side of fence in this war, but Stinger wasn't going to endanger their friendship over _this_. They had no evidence that the Cons were at the root of the energy crisis--at least not to his knowledge. What he had just told the Secretary of Defense all but signed his own arrest warrant, but there were some values that transcended politics and even battle lines. By not cooperating with Castlehoff his actions would be construed as treason. But it was either betray the Trine's trust in him as a human, something that could benefit the human race later down the road, or betray his country by refusing to find and provide certain information. It most certainly was an unfavorable situation and one Stinger didn't know if he'd be able to get out of this time.

* * *

**A/N: Dun dun DUN!! What's going to happen to Stinger now? Where do Skywarp and the Trine fit in all this? And what of Maria--how is she going to react to her father being an instantaneous criminal? Stay tuned to find out!**


	5. Night Flight

**A/N: Remember last chapter when I said things were going to get prickly, real fast? Well, dear readers, I hope this chapter throws you for a loop. It just came to me one very early morning while I was driving to work one day. Enjoy! Please Read and Review! This story is for you guys, after all!**

**Chapter Five: Night Flight**

Young Maria bounced up the stairs to her house as yet another day drew to a close. She was feeling happier than normal, even joyful this evening. She had spent most of the day at her favorite tree overlooking the runways and finishing her homework. Once that task had been completed she had worked on her sketches and read from her novel intermittently, all while jets, prop-jobs, and helicopters took-off and landed in the background, the roar of their engines a distant thrum from her perch far away. The day had left her feeling refreshed, content and more than a little satisfied at having accomplished what she set out to do.

"Carla! I'm back!" she called in a rare show of acknowledgement, as she closed the front door behind her. She didn't bother to wait for Carla's answer, but instead dashed upstairs to relieve her aching shoulders of her backpack. She set the bag down with a heavy _thump_ before heading back out her bedroom door and back downstairs. It then dawned on her that she never heard Carla reply to her greeting. "Carla?" she called again, turning at the banister and heading into the kitchen. It was empty. _That's odd; she usually has dinner ready by now. I wonder if we're having take-out instead?_ The teen thought as she idly passed through the kitchen. Her grey eyes scouted the room and stopped at the kitchen sink. She slowly walked forward and stared at the small stack of dirty dishes within. Another oddity. Carla was a neat-freak when it came to her kitchen. Now really puzzled, Maria stooped and opened the dishwasher, pulling out one of the racks as she did so. All the dishes from the previous night were still unclean. She cocked her head in confusion. _Carla always washes the dishes every morning. But it is Sunday, so maybe she forgot, _but Maria really didn't have any faith in that train of thought_._ She checked her watch; it was just a little past eight in the evening. This late in the day, on a Sunday, both Carla and Stinger should be back from their errands. Maria knew her father had to go into the office today, but it was supposed to have been for a brief conference call, not an all day affair.

_Hmmm. Maybe they went out on a date_, she mused as she straightened from the dishwasher and approached the table. If they did go out, there would be a note. But as her eyes glanced over the table, she saw that there wasn't one. She frowned to herself and walked back through the kitchen and into the living room. No note there either. It was puzzling, but it wasn't going to be something she'd worry about. They were adults; they didn't need to report to her for anything. She was just about to plop down onto the couch and watch TV when a brief flash out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She slowly stood and placed the remote back onto the couch. There it was again! It was coming from Stinger's study. Now really curious, the young girl entered the small hallway that led back to the study. It was actually more like a home office that they all used, her father more so than the others—Stinger wrote his reports, Carla enjoyed looking at new recipes and staying current on the news in Europe, and Maria did her schoolwork back there whenever circumstances dictated it. It wasn't a fancy set-up, but it did the job. There it was _again_! A brief flash of red light bounced off the hallway walls, its origin somewhere within the office.

As Maria tip-toed down the corridor, she snorted softly to herself. It was probably nothing more than the power light to the surge protector, or maybe even the blinking light indicating someone had left the monitor on. She peeked her head around the corner and glanced inside. It was dark within and hadn't appeared used recently. The light flashed again and this time she caught its source. It was coming from the desk. She quickly walked to it and stared down, utterly perplexed: it was Stinger's odd-shaped token, the one he had said an Air Force friend had given him. The weird "eyes" on the face were blinking a bright and brilliant ruby light every few seconds. She gently picked the token up and studied its intricate designs. As she rolled it back and forth between her finge tips a very cold feeling was settling into her stomach. Stinger never went _anywhere _without this coin. It was always with him; she had noticed that the very first week she began to stay here. Her thoughts raced to their conversation from yesterday, his voice hollow-sounding within her mind: "_It means a lot to me and I want to keep it close—like I would like to do to you."_

_Why would he leave it now?_ _What does the blinking light mean?_

A sudden creak came from behind her. Maria whirled around, grey eyes wide with alarm. A man, an unfamiliar man, stood in the doorway to the study, a malicious, almost lecherous smile on his face. He was rather well-dressed, wearing a charcoal grey suit with a red tie on a white irvory shirt and shiny, black leather shoes. His hair was blonde, well-groomed and his teeth a flashy white; he would have made quite a poster image for _Business_ _Weekly _or the _Economist_. But it was his hand that drew most of Maria's attention and caused all of her fear. In his right, well-manicured hand was a Taurus .45-caliber pistol, its matte black finish barely catching the feeble light.

"Who are you!?" Maria demanded. She turned completely around, back to the desk and palms flat on its surface. Her mind was racing in panic. _Who is this? Where's Carla? What does he want? Where's Stinger? Oh, God! Oh, God!!_ She pressed back further as the stranger stepped closer, the gun never wavering from her torso. Her left palm slipped on the desk's surface just a hair, fingertips brushing something slender and cylindrical. _A pen!_ Deftly, her fingers wrapped around the ball-point and pulled it into her palm; Maria used her body to help shield the action. As panicked as she was, she very well knew that anything and everything could be used as a weapon and something was better than nothing. She asked again, "Who the hell are you!? Where's Carla?"

The grin widened. "Shut up," the stranger said, the words acerbic and as cold as ice, all spoken with a smile on his face, a smile that didn't quite reach his icy, blue eyes. He motioned with the gun. "You're coming with me."

Maria didn't move. "Where's Stinger? Did you do something to them?" she demanded.

"You don't listen very well, do you? I said, 'shut up!'" There was no smile this time. "Now move."

Maria shook her head, "I'm not going anywhere."

_Click. _The unmistakable sound of a hammer being drawn filled the room with unprecedented clarity. "I will not repeat myself again." He waggled the gun. "_Move."_

Very, very slowly Maria pushed herself away from the desk, pen clutched tightly to her side in one hand and Stinger's coin held firmly in the other. Fear was coursing through her body like the fresh melt waters in a spring thaw; her blood felt every bit as chilled too. But underneath the fear and borderline panic, Maria felt something else—cold, calculating resolve. Her mind was working just as quickly to find a way out of this predicament. She was almost directly in front of the stranger when a new voice broke into the thick, suffocating tension.

"Now that's no way to treat polite company."

The businessman pivoted around, clearly startled, his gun trying to find the source of the voice, but before he could focus his sights a solid punch to his jaw sent the man careening into the office, missing Maria by a hair's breadth. She shrieked in surprise and fear, all but falling against the left wall of the office to get out of the way. The gun discharged with a soft _pfft_, the suppressor on its barrel muffling the sound of the shot. The bullet drove harmlessly into the opposite wall, leaving a neat, round hole in the drywall. Maria stared in horror at the unconscious man lying at her feet, but a slight shuffling sound from the hallway immediately drew her attention.

"Well? You goin' to stand there all day and gawk or are we gonna get the hell out of here?" From out of the shadows of the hallway a familiar face appeared: Lieutenant Ray Prawsky. He offered her a hand and she took it warily, mind still reeling from what had just happened. She gingerly stepped over the fallen would-be kidnapper to stand in front of Prawsky. Once again he wore a crisply-pressed Air Force blues uniform and his brown eyes were bright with eagerness.

"T-Thank you, I think," Maria stuttered, brushing hair from her eyes.

"Thank me later, femme, right now we need to get out of here," he replied adjusting his hold on her hand so that he gripped her wrist.

Suddenly her eyes went wide. "WATCH OUT!"

Prawsky whirled just in time to dodge a vicious blow from a pistol; almost automatically he followed through with a blow of his own. But this new attacker easily blocked the punch and jumped backwards, trying to put some distance between himself and theLieutenant in order to use his pistol. Like they were connected, Prawsky mimicked his movement, attempting to keep the fight too close for an effective pistol shot. He knew he could still be shot, but he also knew he could easily over-power this meatbag, and the gunshot be slagged. The worst it would do to him was blow his cover. Using his height and weight to his advantage, Prawsky quickly grabbed his assailant's pistol hand and twisted _hard _while simultaneously shoving the man up against the corridor wall.

The second man screamed in agony as his wrist snapped audibly, like a toothpick; the gun clattered to the wooden floor. Maria watched, frozen, by awe and fear. The hallway was a dead-end behind her and the front was thoroughly blocked by the two fighting men. So entranced she was by the fight going on in front of her, Maria failed to notice that the first man had slowly regained consciousness and was standing to his feet, pistol at the ready. She suddenly felt a powerful arm wrap around her torso and the bite of cold steel poking into her ribs. She gasped involuntarily and struggled to move, but he only pressed the gun in harder.

"Don't even think about it," he growled warningly. "The Boss wants you alive, but he didn't say you had to be uninjured."

By this time, Prawsky had beaten the second perpetrator to a bloody pulp; the cataleptic body slumped against the wall before sliding down onto the floor. Prawsky gave his bloody knuckles a good shake and turned to face Maria, only to freeze in place as he took in the situation.

"One move and the broad gets a free piece of lead. Got it hero?"

"You don't have any idea who you're messing with. Let her go and I might let you live," Prawsky snarled softly, brown eyes blazing with a hellish light.

"I might not be able to hurt _you_, but she sure as hell will get it long before you reach me. Now, turn around."

Prawsky stood rigid, his mind racing to figure a way out of this situation. Fortunately, Maria provided the answer for him. With all the force she could muster, the teenager drove the pen into the thigh of her attacker, shoving it in almost to its top mechanism. The man howled in pain and instantly released her; Maria took the opportunity to duck back inside the office.

The teen's distraction was all Skywarp needed. A vicious left hook lacerated the stranger's left cheek and broke his nose. He followed that punch up with wind-robbing upper cut to the solar plexis. Next, Prawsky grabbed the man's pistol hand and twisted his arm, slamming the assailant into the wall and firmly pinning him in place, now pistol-less, arm behind his back. "You messed with the wrong humans, fleshbag," he whispered sinisterly into the struggling man's ear.

"No! It's _you! You _don't know who your messing with!" he gasped.

Prawsky shrugged. "Have it your way," he said simply before wrenching the arm up and back in the complete opposite way it was meant to maneuver. The man screamed in pain as his arm was slowly twisted out of its socket. Then to add insult to injury, Prawsky grabbed the man's wrist and elbow and snapped both his ulna and radius. Finally, Prawsky struck him across the back of the neck effectively silencing his screams of agony.

Outside the distant flash of lights could be seen growing closer and closer by the second. Prawsky ducked into the office and once again grabbed Maria's wrist. "We really, _really _need to get out of here!"

"But--!" Maria began, but a sharp yank on her arm cut-off any further words she had to say. Quickly, he led her down the hallway passed the two unconscious thugs, and back into the living room.

"Do you have the beacon?" Prawsky asked, suddenly turning to Maria and holding her shoulders.

"What?" she asked, utterly confused by this point. She still had no clue what was going on or why this was all happening. But this was her father's friend, and he had saved her from being kidnapped or even shot, so that meant he had to know what was happening, right?

"The bea—the coin, a weird-shaped coin. Do you have it?" he asked again, a slight urgency in his voice.

"You mean this?" she replied, opening her right hand to reveal Stinger's special coin. Her palms were red and sweaty from having held onto it for so long and for so tight.

"Yes! That's it," Prawsky said, relief flooding through him. "Can you hold onto it for me, just a little longer?" he asked, once again maneuvering her through the house back towards the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah, sure, but what the hell is going on?" she asked as she slipped the piece into her jean pocket, "Why are you here? Where's Car--?"

"Look, squishy, we don't have time for this," he interrupted her once more. He quickly shoved her before him, guiding her to the attached-garage, kitchen entrance. They shuffled through the door and into the cool, dark bay of the garage where they came upon Stinger's parked BMW 750Li sedan. The deep, metallic black finish of the car nearly melded into the darkness of the garage, a perfect avenue of escape. "Get in," Prawsky commanded as he threw open the driver's side door. "I sure hope Stinger hasn't befriended any Autobots," he mumbled under his breath.

"What'd you say?" Maria asked as she jumped in the passenger seat. Her heart was still pumping hard, but she no longer felt panicked or fearful. This was Stinger's friend; she had met him; he was an Air Force officer. Everything was going to be OK. Once they got out of here, then maybe he could explain things.

"Uh, nothin'. Do you know how to drive?" he asked rather unexpectedly and then paused briefly before reaching up to the steering column. _Where's Rumble and Frenzy when you need them? They're the ones that like to hot-wire human vehicles and joy-ride. Not me!_

"What!?" she stared open-mouthed at him. _An adult that doesn't know how to drive!_ "_You _don't know how to _drive!?_"

He grinned widely at her as the car fired to life and the garage door opened. He threw one arm across the back of her seat and peeked out the tinted rear window. "There's a first time for everything! Wanna take notes?"

Prawsky floored the accelerator and the BMW all but _leaped_ from the garage, tires squealing madly. The Lieutenant then slid the car around, threw it in gear and punched it once more just as three military police cars rounded the far-end of the block. Maria struggled to get her seatbelt on as the car screamed down the straight-away and slid madly around the corner. All confidence in her father's friend was left back at the garage and all the horror and fear of following her mother to the grave in a car accident returned in a blinding flash of headlights and police sirens. She closed her eyes and gripped the leather seat so tightly her fingernails were leaving indentions. _Oh, God! Please I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! Not this way! I don't wanna die!_

Prawsky glanced over his shoulder and then looked forward once more. They were approaching the main gate to the base. Already personnel were activating the heavy, metal barriers to bar their escape. _Let's see if this works like it does in human video games, _he thought to himself. He pressed the accelerator to the floor; the engine roared with increased power. Like a black earth-bound comet, the car streaked for the gate, the gap narrowing every second. The brightly lit digital speedometer quickly entered triple digits and continued to climb. The distance became non-existent in mere seconds. _Here goes nothing!_ Both passengers braced themselves as the car crashed through the gate like a shiny black, metallic ram; sparks rained down from both sides of the car and a horrible screech of metal-on-metal filled the air in conjunction with the revving car engines, and the squealing of tires. Maria felt a painful yank from the seatbelt as the fabric struggled to keep her seated from the impact; her teeth ached from being gritted so hard. Within less than a second, they were through and screaming down the roadway. The teen quickly gulped in some air, now that she remembered to breathe again.

"You OK?" she heard a voice ask.

She turned wide, frightened eyes back onto Prawsky. "I will be," she said shakily, "once you stop this car."

He grinned as he looked down the road ahead of them. "Just a few more miles and then we'll stop. Can't keep this car for long." _It'll be hotter than Starscream's temper before too much longer,_ he added to himself.

"I thought you said you didn't know how to drive," Maria asked suddenly, giving him a watchful look. She seemed to be much more talkative than the last time they met. Skywarp didn't know if it was because she had the life scared out of her, or it was the fact she was curious about him rescuing her. Probably a little of both.

"I don't," he replied, throwing her a quick glance, "but you can learn anything from the Internet." _Even stunt driving! But I'll still be glad to get back into the air, thank Primus. Leave this ground-hugging slag to the Autobums._

She just stared at him completely bewildered before falling silent once more. She turned her head to the window and stared at the darkened countryside, watching the desert landscape flash by in shades of muted grey, blue, and black. "Lt. Prawsky."

"Yeah?" It took him a minute to realize she was addressing him and not another human. _Damn, I'll never get used to being talked to in this form!_

"What happened back there? Where's my…my," she struggled briefly, "my father?"

Skywarp didn't answer for the longest time. He wish he knew. One minute he was in a training exercise with Screamer and TC, and the next the homing beacon within his arm had been activated. He didn't know why, but somehow he knew something was wrong. Badly wrong. Humans called it a "gut instinct." Whatever it was he was glad he came. Fortunately, he, Screamer, and TC hadn't been too far away while undergoing their training. In fact, he and Maria were almost to the spot where he had concealed his true form. With a jolt, he realized he hadn't answered Maria's question, so he decided to tell her the truth.

"I don't know kid; I wish I did, but I just don't."

She nodded her head gently before resting it back against the glass, the shock of tonight's happenings not quite worn off. Maria didn't know how long she dozed, only that the vehicle had stopped and the click of a car door being opened signaled their harried road trip was at an end. She unbuckled her seat belt and gingerly stepped from the car, curious as to where they were. Thick scrub brush surrounded a small clearing, obscuring her view for some distance. The car wasn't parked on any type of road and the terrain gave no indication that there was one nearby. Why here? Did it have something to do with losing the police? _The police! My God, they probably think I'm some kind of criminal or something!_ she thought wildly.

Before she realized it, Prawsky was behind her. "OK, we're here."

"Wherever 'here' is," she muttered sourly. If Prawsky heard, he didn't give any indication.

"Don't hold this against me, but I have to do this."

Before Maria could ask what 'this' was, she felt a sharp pain at the back of her neck and then blackness quickly consumed her vision. The last thought to cross her mind before unconsciousness took over was that of betrayal and hurt.

_But…he saved me. Why…? How…could…he? _

She slumped lifelessly to the desert sand, Prawsky holding her so she wouldn't knock her head unnecessarily. Next, he withdrew a small bit of cloth from his pocket and blindfolded her before reaching down and cradling her bridal-style in his arms. He walked a treacherous and rocky 50-yards only to stop at another mass of scrub brush.

Suddenly, the brush shimmered like a mirage and then disappeared completely revealing the dark, sleek F-15 Eagle form that was Prawsky's true self. A ladder slid down and the cockpit opened of its own accord, the golden glass glowing softly in the stark starlight. Fortunately, there was no moon tonight and with his black finish it would be difficult for anyone or _anything_ for that matter to see him. He needn't worry about human radar detection; the Cybertronian composite materials that comprised his armor easily absorbed the radar rays and hid him from sight. Human technology could be so poor at times.

He gently placed his passenger into the pilot's seat and buckled her in with the harness. Then with a shimmer of distorted light, the human version disappeared and the metal version shook slightly with life.

"Oh, Primus! Feels good to be back!" Skywarp sighed. "Now then, let's get the Pit out of here!"

With a nearly deafening roar, Skywarp fired his engines and engaged his anti-gravity drive, causing him to slowly rise in a hover. _Heh, heh. Eat your Spark out Harrier!_

When he reached a satisfactory altitude, Skywarp fired his turkey-fan nozzles and rocketed up higher into Earth's atmosphere. Suddenly a burst of purple light flickered in the night sky and then all was still once more, the echoes of the jet engines slowly fading like a spent wind. The only witness to the unusual light burst in the sky was a lazy gila monster relishing the last remnants of warmth on his sunning rock. And he wasn't telling anyone.


	6. First Impressions

**A/N: *Edit* There was a very bad page-break mistake in this chapter, so I went in and fixed it. My OCD tends to do that to me.**

**Enjoy this next installment of "EOMF". A little action, a little plot building, and a whole lot of drama. Enjoy and let me know what ya think! Title is a shout-out to my good friend and fellow author "buddhabread." This un's for you, hon! Hope ya don't mind my purloining of your title ;)**

**Chapter Six: First Impressions**

Warm, enveloping darkness. Ah, such warmth! Just like being back in her old apartment and snuggling down deep within the sheets. And Mom would come in and kiss her kindly good-night…and tuck the blankets snuggly around her little body…She could even hear the murmur of the television in the next room, soft voices talking back and forth…her Mom raising up and leaving, soft footsteps traveling away to pitter-patter within the living room…

Dull grayness would begin to seep into the edges of her vision. Was it dawn already? How quickly it should come! The murmuring voices from the television would raise and lower in volume. How odd that Mom would leave the TV on overnight. More feeble light and then a dull throbbing ache at the back of her neck. _Why do I feel so sore? _Blearily she cracked her eyes open. Dull, muted gun-metal greys, and rust browns filled her vision, until her eyes slowly adjusted and her vision sharpened. _This isn't my room!_ She sat up quickly, instantly regretting such a sudden action. Her head swam and the dull ache flared into full-fledged pain. Maria instinctively raised a hand to the back of her neck, not that it would do her any good. When the dizziness subsided, rational thought slowly returned as well as the events of the past night.

She wasn't back in her old apartment's room, like she had imagined, but instead was in what appeared to be a large warehouse. Large iron girders ribbed the roof like a massive carcass as far as her eye could see; two short, grey walls perpendicular with one another obstructed her binocular vision. She seemed to be lying in one of the corners of this large building, separated from the main floor by cubicle walls. A thin felt blanket lay in her lap, a feeble, but efficient barrier against the chill in the building. Voices echoed off the walls from somewhere deeper within. She realized that her dream hadn't been completely off the wall; the voices she imagined that were on the television were actually voices she had been hearing in real life—another example of her subconscious playing tricks, no doubt.

_Where the hell am I? What's going on here?_

Maria was too far away to hear the voices clearly, but she figured that little problem could be remedied easily. She tossed the thin blanket off her hips and slowly stood to her feet, using one of the walls for stability. A small gap had been left as a crude doorway between the partition and the actual warehouse wall, so with stumbling steps, the young teen made her way out. She paused briefly allowing her grey eyes to adjust to the darkness and letting her ears pinpoint the exact location of the voices. There! That way. She walked softly as much to ease the throbbing within her head as well as to keep from being heard. Prawsky had brought her here; that much was certain. But why? Where was he now? And why clout her over the head? What the hell was that for? If he truly was a friend, he shouldn't have done that. In any event, her suspicions were on high alert.

Her eyes traveled curiously over what little she could see. There appeared to be other small partitions scattered here and there, none of them having been used for ages it seemed. Some had even toppled, or had been pushed out of the way, feathery cobwebs floating in the occasional draft that blew now and again. Dust hung thick in the stale-smelling air; it appeared the place hadn't been used in quite some time—it's present state only heightening Maria's suspicions and fear. As she crept forward her eyes began to distinguish several large shapes up ahead in what appeared to be the main floor of the building. Two large shapes were on the left while another remained on the right. All were massive, but fit comfortably within the confines of the warehouse. They even looked oddly familiar…and then as Maria drew closer, it hit her like a shock of cold water in the face. They were jets! F-15 Eagles to be precise, just parked idly within this abandoned warehouse, well, seemingly abandoned anyway. Mouth open in awe, Maria walked cautiously between them, circling one and then another, occasionally reaching out a hand to brush the finely painted titanium. It may have been dark, but even her eyes could distinguish that each jet was painted a different a color—one was grey, another dark blue and the third, the one on the right, nearly blent in with the darkness—it was ebony black. How odd. F-15s weren't usually so colorful unless they were used in air shows or something of the sort. Why were they here? Whose were they? So many questions, and so few answers.

Her curiosity sated for the time being, Maria continued on up the aisle, towards a narrow beam of light that could only mean a door. It seemed that was where the voices were originating. She had no idea what she'd do when she reached her destination; these people wanted her alive for something; they had to, otherwise why keep her around? Even one as naïve as she, knew she was nothing short of a liability. What in the hell was Prawsky playing at? If he was even still here? Nervousness and anxiety began to settle within her stomach like a heavy meal, weighing her down and making each step harder and harder to complete, but still she continued. The door was partially ajar. Standing off to one side, she gently listened for any signs of life. The voices were still present, but they seemed to be in yet another room.

Praying to God that the door wouldn't squeak, Maria carefully pushed it inward just enough for her to get through. She sighed internally and began to creep duck-style across the floor. Suddenly without warning, blinding florescent light flooded the room! Maria grunted in surprise and threw her hands up to help ease the glare, more than well aware of the sound of footsteps approaching, but she couldn't yet see to flee, her eyes having grown accustomed to near darkness. Once the light blindness had worn off she removed her hands only to hear a noxious, raspy voice come from directly above her.

"Didn't your creators teach you that it was rude to eavesdrop?" the voice snapped harshly.

Maria swallowed nervously, eyes dilated. _I am so fucked!_

* * *

_**Some time earlier…**_

"What in the name of Primus were you thinking, you dolt!?"

"What would you have had me do, Screamer!? They were trying to kidnap her! I couldn't just stand around and let that happen, not after the promise I gave Stinger."

"I knew that little Pit-spawn was gonna be more trouble than he was worth," Starscream snarled fiercely, slamming his holographic fists against the table.

"Hey! You agreed to give him the beacon too. In fact, it was your word or nothing," Skywarp countered, also in his hologram. After abandoning the car and taking to the air, he had contacted his wingmates and informed them of his intentions, which admittedly, hadn't gone much farther than rendezvousing at the old, abandoned warehouse located in Devil's Canyon, as the humans called it. It was aptly named too. The warehouse was part of a system of mines that had been abandoned in the early 1950s, mainly due to unavoidable and unpredictable methane explosions within the mines. Most of the shafts had been closed off to prevent methane from escaping and preventing any accidental casulties, but the entire area had a long history of bad juju. Dating back to the 1800s, even the Indians avoided the place saying that "bad spirits restless there." And now to this day, modern civilization avoided the nearly 750 square miles of desert terrain.

The abandoned site made an ideal rendezvous point for the trine, having discovered its potential on a late night patrol when they had first landed on Earth. Their delicate and considerably more advanced sensors had informed them that the methane threat, though still present, was minimal due to the cave-ins. And it was here that Skywarp had brought Maria. Thus far, Thundercracker had been listening quietly and Starscream, well, Starscream was more than livid.

"Do you have any idea what sort of position you have put us in?" said mech hissed. "W are in no position to care for a human youngling."

"Oh, right. And we'd be in a better position once she was taken," Skywarp retorted, throwing his hands up in a human sign of exasperation.

"Do we know where Stinger is?" Thundercracker interjected before the argument could gain any more heat.

"No. I don't at least," Skywarp admitted, blazing brown eyes never leaving Starscream's. "I saw where the beacon went off and I went to investigate. When I got there two fleshbags were roughing the youngster up, so I returned the favor," he finished with a shrug.

"Did you kill them?" Starscream asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I should have. The human's law enforcement was too close for me to finish the job. They might have taken them into custody."

"And you don't think you were seen? Either there or back where you concealed yourself?" the holormed Starscream pressed.

"No on both counts. And even if I was the fleshies could never trace me," Skywarp said smugly.

"That still leaves us with the problem of caring for _her!_" Starscream snapped, resuming his pacing across the floor. Suddenly Thundercracker spoke.

"Silence. She's awake," he said softly, standing to his feet.

"How do you know?" Skywarp whispered, moving to the door.

"She touched me."

"Stay in here," Starscream commanded, "I'll take care of this."

* * *

_**Present time…**_

Maria then felt a rough hand grasp the back of her shirt collar and haul her up onto her feet. She stared fearfully into the unfamiliar ice blue eyes of a man, a man who looked well and truly pissed-off.

"Take it easy on the kid, Screamer," another voice, a deep baritone intoned from within the other room. The door opened wider to reveal two more silhouettes standing just inside the frame. They stepped out into the brighter light and Maria stifled a gasp as she recognized Prawsky being the third man. The one who had just spoken was every bit as large if not larger than her father's "friend." He wore a faded brown T-shirt similar to the ones favored by the military, ABU pants and black combat boots; his face was square, with a finely chiseled jaw and an impassive expression.

"And why should I?" the first snarled in that ear-jarring voice. He directed his attention back onto her. "Knowing our luck with humans, she'll be every bit as troublesome as her male creator."

_Male creator? What the…? Is he referring to Stinger?_

With a harsh fling, the first man tossed Maria across the floor, watching her sprawl painfully. She glared hatefully at the one called "Screamer," grey eyes leaping like white flames. She stood slowly to her feet eyes deviating from Screamer to find Prawsky.

"You!" she pointed accusingly, "Why'd you bring me here!? What the hell is going on!? Who are these bastards!?" She demanded in a tirade of questions.

"Well now, I was hoping you could tell _us_ what was occurring Ms. Cline," Screamer spoke before Prawsky could get a word in edge-wise. His voice had lost its raspy snarl and was now as smooth as silk, but Maria didn't miss the way his eyes glittered like broken glass or the curious way one corner of his lips curled into a smirk. If he didn't look so downright menacing, the man would have looked rather attractive. Short cropped auburn hair had been trimmed into a classic crew cut; and his eyes were set in a handsome oval face. He had to be a pilot for one of the jets for he was wearing an olive drab flight suit. She couldn't quite make out the patching and she wasn't about to get closer to find out. Everything about this man screamed "danger" and Maria didn't let his good looks get the better of her judgment.

"Maria," Prawsky spoke, stepping beside the second man and throwing "Screamer" a warning look. "There's a lot that needs explaining…"

"I'll say! Just why in the hell did you knock me out and bring me here! And what's with those jets!?" She interjected, slowly backing away. From a previous, hurried observation there was a window directly behind her, old and cracked. She knew they weren't high above ground due to the shadows being cast about outside. It may prove to be her only way out. Any trust she had had in Prawsky had dissipated like water on a sidewalk in the heat of summer. This whole situation smelled bad and she didn't want to be a part of it. Primal instinct was beginning to kick in.

"Maria, let's sit down and talk about this," Prawsky said, holding his hands up in a beseeching manner.

"I say take her back to where she came from," Screamer snapped, folding his arms belligerently across his broad chest.

"Not helping, Starscream," the second man spoke up, his tone carrying an undercurrent of annoyance.

"Well…if that's the way you feel…" Maria said trailing off, her eyes darting behind her, "then, I'll just be going."

Thundercracker caught the quick dart of the girl's eyes and understood her intentions immediately. "DON'T!" he yelled, but it was already too late.

Maria pivoted on her toes, bent deep and flung herself through the feeble window, taking care to duck her head and shoulders. She easily penetrated the flimsy frame and landed painfully on her right shoulder, glass tinkling around her like a twisted form of rain. She felt numerous trickles of blood running down her arms, but there was no time to take stock now. She needed to escape, to get away from all this madness—this was all too much to contemplate, to understand. Scrabbling to her feet the teen bolted away from the building as fast as her tired legs could carry her, not daring to look back.

"Nice one, Screamer," Skywarp snarled, glaring hatefully at his wingmate.

"I am not the one who decided to jump out of a window," Starscream snapped back, arms still folded.

"Primus only knows how many mechs have wanted to after speaking with _you_. At least the human had the gumption," Skywarp growsed.

"Enough! Both of you!" Thundercracker roared, "We can argue over the merits of Starscream's conversationalism later. Let's just go and get the youngling before anything else happens tonight," he said dourly, grabbing Skywarp by the arm and shoving him towards the window. Throwing Starscream one last venomous look, Skywarp flickered out of existence and reappeared next to Thundercracker outside the shattered pane. Together the two holoforms took off after the girl listening closely to the sounds of her flight.

Maria continued to run despite the intense pounding of her heart and the burning in her lungs. Chaparral and sage brush whipped her face and tore at her arms--the desert; although where in the desert was anyone's guess. At this point in time Maria didn't care where she was so long as she had some distance between herself and _them._ Logistics could come later. Her flight soon brought her to a large drywash, a wet season run-off that had been carving through the desert for decades. Relieved for the change of pace, Maria began to carefully make her way down to the gully's floor, rock, sand and grit trailing behind her in a dusty plume. Once at the bottom of the gully, Maria glanced backwards up the embankment, listening carefully for signs of pursuit.

Silence…No wait. There! A sharp crackling within the brush. They were definitely pursuing. Turning once more, she began jogging up the wash, one ear to the rear, one eye to the front.

"We're not going to catch her!" Skywarp growled, crashing through the underbrush like a bull in a china shop.

Thundercracker stopped. "You're right. She's got too much of a head start and we're only driving her further away from us." He chuckled darkly. "Not the most ideal way to introduce Stinger's offspring to our existence, but I think one of us should go and fetch her back…the easy way."

Skywarp grinned. "I'll see you back at base." He stayed long enough to watch TC return the grin and then they both dissipated into the darkness.

* * *

Ten minutes. She had been running for ten minutes. By now her body screamed at her to stop, to take a pause, to do anything but run. Blood covered both arms from the numerous scratches caused by the chaparral and glass. One particularly nasty laceration stretched from her shoulder down her deltoid and across her bicep, nine inches long and deep into the muscle. Dark clots of blood coagulated around its edges but the wound still bled freely. It hurt like hell, but she ignored it—had to ignore it—just long enough until she could find a safe place to hide.

All of a sudden a dull roar filled the night sky, growing in intensity and loudness by the second. It was a sound that Maria had once loved, but now she feared—the thunderous roar of a low-flying jet. Ahead the arroyo was beginning to pan out and thick silt quickly replaced the courser rocks of the bed. She broke out into a sprint eyes straining to see any tell-tell signs of the aircraft. Her feet struggled in the deepening sand, but she still pushed onward. A dark blur grabbed her attention and she glanced sideways. There! Dug out from the embankment was a shallow depression carved from countless flashfloods during the rainy season; not really a cave, but not really an overhang, but it _was_ a place to hide safely from overhead observation.

By this time the roar was almost deafening. The son of a bitch had to be almost overhead! But Maria could still not catch a visual. Desperately she dove for the shallow grotto and pressed herself as far back as she possible could. Silently she prayed she hadn't been seen, repeating it over and over like a sacred mantra.

It was then she heard the most curious sound—like hydraulics hissing, gears shifting and a whole multitude of other metallic, mechanical sounds. The roar from the jet engines was still deafening, but the sound seemed different somehow, like it was coming from a different direction.

Then the ground trembled immensely. Dust and small stones fell from the ceiling of her hideout. Her eyes widened with fear. Had it crashed? But there hadn't been any explosions. Now what was happening?

Another tremor. And then another. Another. More mechanical noises drawing closer and closer. Maria drew her knees up to her chest and bit the top of her knee cap to keep from whimpering her fear. Blood trickled down her arm to continue down her leg, pooling darkly at her feet.

Finally everything stopped—the tremors, the noises everything went silent as if someone had flipped a light switch. But Maria didn't move; it couldn't be safe, not yet. And then she heard the voice—an oddly familiar voice, but it resonated across the desert landscape and had a bizarre digital ring to it.

"I know where you are."

All the blood in her veins froze over. Her heart began to buffet her chest cavity; it beat so hard it hurt with a dull throb. Maria cringed back into her hidey-hole pretending to not have heard.

"Maria, don't make me pull you out," the voice spoke again, an unmistakable warning in its undertone.

She gasped when she heard her name, realization slapping her across the face. With shuddering movements, the teen crawled from her hiding place, every nerve on a knife's edge of sensitivity. As she scrabbled out, eyes straining in the darkness, she saw nothing at first…that is until the voice spoke from directly behind and _above_ her.

"Now, was all that running _really _necessary?"

Maria spun around ready to fight, but all her aggression quickly evaporated as she faced Skywarp for the very first time. Her mouth gaped open and she trotted several steps backwards before tripping over some loose rubble and falling on her ass. She still continued to backpedal, eyes never leaving the monstrous sight before her. Skywarp sat crouched over the arroyo, hands hanging idly between his legs. Two massive cannons crossed over his arms, gleaming menacingly in the feeble starlight. With a sudden jolt of horrid understanding, Maria realized that the jet she had heard and tried to see was this _thing_. Massive triangular wings blocked a large portion of the sky; the large, rectangular air intakes crowned the shoulders. This thing, this _robot_, for she couldn't think of a more comparable term, was the jet. It had to be.

"Who or _what _are you?" she asked in a trembling voice, grey eyes never deviating from the ruby red lenses that comprised the giant's eyes.

The robot chuckled, an odd sound in the desert night. "Let's just say, I'm a good friend of your father's, but you know me better as…" and all of a sudden his holoform flickered in front of her and winked, " Prawsky."

She jumped as if she'd been shocked, going as pale as a ghost. "What? How? You! Him!" Half asked questions began to pour from her mouth as fast as she could draw a breath.

"Relax, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you. If I really wanted to you'd be dead already." Skywarp was monitoring her vitals and cringed as he sensed her heart rate spike. Oops. Wrong choice of words. "Never mind that last bit, but I do need you to come back with me."

"What!?"

"I said, 'I need you to come back with me,' to base. You're injured and I have things that I need to talk with you about your creator," Skywarp repeated somewhat impatiently. Time was wasting and Starscream's mood probably wasn't improving.

Maria began shaking her head. "No. No way, man! There's no way I'm going anywhere with you or Prawsky or any other human, image, person-thingy you create. Just…just leave me alone!" she said emphatically.

It was plain even to Skywarp that the human was entering shock. Her feeble biological systems had already undergone some extreme stress from earlier in the day; that, coupled with her crash through the window, her mad flight through the desert, and now this impromptu introduction with his true form-- he was honestly surprised that she was still functioning. His readings were also telling him she had lost a vast amount of blood as well—not a good thing. He remembered what Stinger had looked like back in Latveria when he had been grievously injured. He knew he needed to get that flow stopped and soon.

"I wasn't asking you, fleshy," he replied aggravatedly. "You're coming with me whether you like it or not." One giant foot landed within the arroyo, feet from Maria's struggling body. She scrambled to her feet and tried to run, but she was sorely out-classed and out-matched. The starlight disappeared as a massive hand enclosed around her, forcing Maria to her knees. She felt the large metal digits wrap around her body and dig into the sand beneath her knees.

Sudden weightlessness assaulted her senses as she felt herself lifted high into the air. She screamed, she bucked, she kicked but it was all to no avail. This metal giant had her helpless within his grip, her life literally in his hands. The stress and blood loss proved too great.

Skywarp felt her struggles lessen and then cease altogether. He opened his palm briefly to see that the human femme had off-lined—temporarily of course. Her vitals were erratic but stabilizing. It was just as well; at least now he could take her back without listening to her fuss and scream within him. With a longsuffering sigh, the black Seeker placed the human gently within his cockpit and secured her. With bitter irony, Skywarp reflected on how he first met Stinger. Her father took their first meeting so much better than this. On that thought, he transformed and rocketed off back towards the base.

* * *

"All right; I'm finished, but _don't _expect me to do this ever again! The smell is absolutely disgusting!" Thundercracker grumbled loudly, faceplates scrunched in an obvious sign of displeasure. His joints were beginning to ache from having been locked in position for so long and the smell of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air. The blue Seeker had been crouched over the tiny human female's body for the past hour, tediously repairing the damage wrought by her mad flight through the sagebrush.

"See? I knew studying human anatomy would come in handy some day," Skywarp chirped from Thundercracker's right. He was sitting benignly against the wall of the warehouse, legs stretched out before him, thrusters crossed. His optics shone brightly with mischief.

"Considering you never once opened the data file," Thundercracker replied, withdrawing his sautering torch back into the index finger of his right hand. He took a step back and then neatly folded down into his alt form, the transformation giving him some temporary reprieve from his crouched position. The warehouse was spacious, but it didn't quite provide the height needed for any of the Decepticons to stand completely erect. Therefore, due to the circumstances, it was much more comfortable for the Seekers to use their holoforms. "Ideally, I should have used sutures on her flesh, but this will have to do," Thundercracker added, his holoforms studying his handiwork with intense hazel eyes.

Maria still laid unconscious, thank Primus, otherwise they would have had to have held her down. The deep gash that had cost the girl so much blood was now sealed; a dark, blackened strip of flesh stretched from her shoulder and down her arm. There was no doubt it would scar. There had been three other cuts that had required the same attention, not nearly as long, but no less deep. Thundercracker had spent more than half his time picking miniscule (to him anyways) pieces of glass from the wounds before he could even begin to repair her.

"Looks good to me. At least she's not leaking her red vital fluids all over the place. I'm never gonna get that gunk out of my cockpit!"

"Quit your whining. At least she didn't purge her tank in you. Be grateful for that at least," Thundercracker retorted. "I'm gonna move her into the room. You gonna sit out here all night or are you coming with me to partake in Starscream's charming conversational skills?" he asked sarcastically while stooping to pick up the unconscious Maria. He easily lifted her with his thick, muscular arms; it was almost like cradling a bundle of flowers, she felt so light to him.

Skywarp merely grunted in response, but he did transform back into his alt mode, holoforms flickering to life beside his wing brother. "Still seething?"

"It's Starscream," Thundercracker replied drolly, shouldering his way through the door. Starscream glared stormily from his spot across the room, feet propped on an old, battered table, arms stubbornly across his chest. Thundercracker laid the human down against the base board and then resumed his seat to the left of Starscream, eyes hooded and emotionless. It was hard for Skywarp to gauge how TC felt about this situation; thus far he had wisely avoided taking a direct stance for either him or Starscream. It was probably for the best.

Suddenly Starscream dropped his feet to the floor and stood up. He made his way to the door. "And where are you going, O' fearless leader?" Skywarp sniped, purposely using one of the more snide comments Starscream directed at Megatron.

"Out. Away from you two," he growled. "I need some quiet time to think how we're going to get out of this mess."

With that he walked out and slammed the door behind him. Jet turbines were heard firing up, as well as the raspy, shriek of the protesting mechanical bay doors opening. A mighty roar filled the quiet night and then slowly died away, silence resuming its reign.

"Is it just me or is Starscream more cranky than usual?" Skywarp asked, but a short snore was all that he got in reply. Surprised, Skywarp glanced over to see Thundercracker's holoform sound asleep, feet propped on the table, arms across his muscled chest, head lolled back and mouth open. It seemed the mech was firmly within the depths of recharge.

Skywarp snickered to himself. Who knew that holoforms could snore? He cast one more glance in Maria's direction before deciding to slip off into recharge himself.


	7. Contingency Plans

**A/N: OK. I've finally figured out the exact direction I want this story to go. With that said, this chapter is a little shorter than normal, but rest assured updates should come a little more frequently now that I know what I want to write. Readers beware! Plot twists are predicted for the next several chapters!**

**Chapter 7: Contingency Plans**

Maria awoke with a start, sitting up quickly, eyes wild with apprehension. Instantaneously she felt a searing, burning pain shoot down her arm. She clutched at it automatically trying to stifle the pain; she felt other similar pains as well, across her ribs and on her opposite shoulder, but this one, this one hurt the worst.

"You might wanna take it easy over the next few solar cycles. I'm not feeling too inclined to re-cauterize that wound should you re-open it," that deep, baritone voice called softly from across the room. Instantly, Maria's eyes alighted on the sedentary figure of Thundercracker's holoform. His feet were propped comfortably on the battered table, arms and ankles crossed. The chair was tipped back against the wall and at first, glance Maria would have sworn the man was still asleep, seeing as how his eyes were still closed. But as she stared, the eyes flicked open and regarded her with a sleepy, half-raised curiosity.

The girl tensed wondering if she should try and flee again or just sit and wait this situation out. Her eyes darted around the room and finally alighted on the still, sleeping form of Ray Prawsky. He sat slumped against the right wall, head lolled to one side, mouth slightly agape. She gave a little gasp and sat up a little straighter, resting her back against the wall. Remembrance hit her hard like a hailstone to the head. Looks like she was going to have to wait this one out. She wouldn't make it very far with this arm anyway.

"You," she began hesitantly, "Are you like him?" Maria jerked her head at Prawsky's dozing form.

"And if I am?" came the indolent reply.

Maria lowered her head and shook it back and forth, honey-colored locks gently swaying side-to-side. "I've got to be dreaming," she said mostly to herself; she looked up fiercely. "Tell me I'm dreaming."

"Why should I? That would be illogical. You are not dreaming youngling Maria. The sooner you realize that, the better off you will be."

She looked up at him, grey eyes almost pleading before steely resignation clouded them over. He was right; there was no sense in pretending; the aching, burning sensation in her arm only reinforced the concept. So if that be the case…

"Can you tell me something?"

"Perhaps."

"Are you…is he," she faltered, "Is he really a friend of my…father?" she struggled over the last word as if it were made of talcum powder. _Yeah, like he's really gonna tell you, _she chided herself for asking such a dumb question. He had no reason to tell her the truth. But it was worth a shot anyway, if only to sate her curiosity to see what he would say.

There was a slight pause before Thundercracker answered. The chair tipped forward and settled on the floor with a slight _thump_. He settled his boots on the floor, knees spread wide, elbows resting benignly on top. It was the first time Maria had a chance to truly get a good look at this "man's" features. As she had first noticed, he was a rather large fellow; he had to stand around 6'4" or 6'5", though it was hard to gauge with him sitting. His face appeared older than Prawsky's; a little more weather-beaten, but still filled with strength and vigor. His eyes were a curious shade of hazel, deep green, seemingly flecked with gold flake. There was deep thoughtfulness in those eyes, eyes that spoke of experiences barely fathomable to the human mind. His hair was a dark, coffee brown with the beginning streaks of dark grey starting around his temples and fading back to his crown. All in all, this man, or this appearance of a man, gave Maria the impression of somebody (something) that had experienced much in life and preferred not to talk about it.

"Yes, we are," he replied, staring deeply at her, "For better or for worse, we are."

"'We.'" she repeated, adjusting her seat. "You know Stinger too?" He nodded his head once.

"How did you meet my father?" she asked, curious and suspicious at the same time. She had her head cocked to one side, ready to listen.

"It is not my place to tell you."

"Then prove it!" she burst out, "Prove that you're a friend of my father! For all I know, you could be lying to me."

"You're father's real name is Don Kesinger; he received his nickname one night at a bar hitting on a lesbian by mistake. He grew up in the state of Virginia, worked in his creator's machine shop, and earned a higher education degree from the institution of Texas A&M in Engineering…Do I need to continue?" Maria whirled at the sound of Prawsky's voice. He sat staring languidly at her, eyes filled with a kind of lazy humor and a sardonic smirk on his lips. "I can tell you how many femmes he's slept with if you want?"

"What!? No! No, no!" Maria exclaimed, her face contorting from disgust, to shock, to outrage back to mortification. How could he know _that!?_ _Wait. Some types of information just don't need confirmation. Knowing how many other women my…father has slept with definitely qualifies._ But the other tidbits…She did remember the name of the college where her mother and father had met, so that much was true. But the rest? Maria was still a little hesitant to accept as true. But she didn't have any more time to give it consideration.

"Believe us now?" Prawsky asked, standing to his feet and stretching. Primus, masquerading around as human was a pain in the aft!

Maria looked up at him and then back to Thundercracker. It was time to make a judgment call. Perhaps it was best to play along, at least for now. "Uh, yeah; I guess so," she replied; this night kept getting stranger and stranger. _Am I sure this isn't a dream?_ A hand appeared in front of her. Maria regarded it warily, before accepting the offer. It felt as real as could be—definitely not a dream. Prawsky hauled her up onto her feet, being mindful of her injuries. He threw her a wink as she came to stand beside him.

"TC, I'm getting a little stiff in the joints. Wanna join me outside for a little stretch?"

"Sure. Feeling a little hydraulic-lock myself," the other replied standing to his full height. In almost the same instance the man disappeared, shimmering away like heat waves in the desert.

Maria startled a little, still not entirely used to human beings just disappearing into thin air.

"Is that his name, TC?" Maria asked tentatively, looking up at Prawsky.

"Yep," he said, urging her toward the door. "His real designation is Thundercracker, but we call him TC for short."

Maria and the holoform stepped out into the darkened hangar. "So is Prawsky your real name, or is it short for something else as well?"

"Actually my designation is Skywarp, which is Prawsky spelled in reverse in your language. My designation is not as, shall we say, generic as TC's nickname."

"Isn't there another guy? The one who caught me 'eavesdropping?'" Maria asked, stopping beside the dark nosecone of the black Eagle.

"Oh yeah, Screamer. Well actually Starscream, but I call him Screamer anyway," Skywarp said as he slowly faded, "He hates it!"

Maria stepped back out of sheer instinct, the sound of spinning gears and hissing hydraulics more than a little disconcerting in such close proximity. Now that she had a chance to actually witness his transformation, Maria stared in awe while also trying to ignore the little burble of fear bubbling in the pit of her stomach. This thing was her father's _friend_? How in the hell did that happen?

Fully transformed, Skywarp stood stooped in the warehouse, glowing red optics lighting the space with a warm glow. "I'm feeling the need for some fresh air. How about you?"

Before Maria could even think to answer, he reached down and scooped her up in a massive palm, the poor girl breathless from fright at the sudden action. She remained on her hands and knees, desperately trying to catch her equilibrium, but the large, swaying motion accompanying Skywarp's strides was making it none too easy. It wasn't until they were out in the crisp, desert air and Skywarp stopped that Maria dared to look around. The blue Eagle, whom she assumed to be Thundercracker, was already outside staring passively at the night sky, the broad back of his wings facing them. He turned to acknowledge their presence, glowing optics pausing briefly on Maria.

"You might want to set her down, Warp. It looks as if she's about to purge herself."

"Yes, please!" Maria gasped. God, carnival rides couldn't hold a candle to this!

Skywarp frowned and gave the teen a stern look. "Only if you swear not to run off," he chided, just like a parent speaking to a child.

"I swear to God! Just please put me down now!" He complied, an amused smirk on his faceplates. Maria plopped down into the soft sand, relishing the feel of solid earth beneath her knees. Yet another difference between Stinger and his offspring: he could handle fast movements of the hand and body; it appeared that she could not. Maybe it was an acquired skill, Skywarp thought, after all, Stinger had been a pilot and to the best of his knowledge, Maria wasn't.

Skywarp raised his arms high above his helm, and took several earth-shuddering (to Maria, anyway) steps forward. Primus! It felt great to be out in the open air! The desert night was fiercely clear; the Milky Way wound its tendrils across the sky like translucent gossamer. Even Skywarp had to admit that the stars appeared dazzling from Earth's lowly terrestrial plain.

Maria sat in the sand, studying the two massive beings even as they were studying the sky. The blue one, whom Skywarp had called Thundercracker, looked nearly identical to the black jet. But upon closer observation, Maria saw that was not quite the case. Though their frames were similar Maria could tell that the blue mech was taller and a little more bulky, but no less graceful. Like his human projection, he resonated of strength and solitude, like a granite statue or obelisk. His features were stolid and nearly indiscernible. He exuded an air of quiet confidence. His colors suited him, she finally decided. Her eyes wandered to Skywarp.

From what she had observed of her father's manner, she had no idea why or how he could be friends with that giant metal monstrosity. Even now, Skywarp was fidgeting, pacing, and scuffing the sand; he just couldn't seem to stand still and that unsettled the girl. Not that pacing was unsettling in itself, but when done by a 30-foot tall robot mere yards from your person, one tends to get a little edgy. Just how did they meet? Through his work perhaps?

She shifted nervously on the spot. Really how long did giant, flying robots need to stretch? The pain in her arm had dulled, but it still stung with clarity now and again, reminding her that fleeing would be a bad idea, at least right now. Suddenly, the blue jet's rumbling voice cut into the night, causing Maria to jump slightly. His voice was deep enough while posing as a human, in this form it was downright, well, thunderous. Thundercracker definitely made a suitable name.

"He is coming."

"About slagging time," Skywarp groused, knocking a cactus over with the tip of his toe.

"Who?" the teen asked timidly, eyes darting from one Seeker to the other.

Two sets of glowing optics looked down upon her; Maria instinctively cringed. God, those eyes looked so hostile!

"The Screaming One," Skywarp said mysteriously, one optic dimming briefly. About the same time he said that, Maria heard that all too-familiar dull roar. In the night sky she looked up to see one glowing point of light rapidly streaking across the heavens. As the three of them watched, it grew closer and closer with each second, the sound from the jet engines equally growing in intensity. The roar became deafening; Maria felt as if her ears were going to start bleeding. She sat huddled on the sand waiting for the noise to stop. Oh, God please make it stop!

The wind kicked up around her, spraying her with sand and small pebbles. It stung her skin with the force of a thousand bees and made it so she could barely open her eyes. Suddenly the ground shook fiercely and the next thing Maria knew she was half buried in sand.

Starscream flew in low and hard, transforming mid-flight and landing with a skidding halt between Thundercracker and Skywarp. Like a catcher getting a mouthful of dirt from a runner sliding into home, so Maria experienced the very same effect—only magnified times 10. She spat and sputtered as sand covered her from head to foot and went up her nose, down her shirt and into other places she'd rather not think about.

Starscream smirked haughtily and reached down to pluck the spluttering human from her sandy bed. He held her leg delicately between thumb and forefinger, studying her like a specimen in a biology lab. Maria kicked and coughed, more than obviously showing her displeasure at being held in such a position. Finally, Starscream sneered disdainfully, "So you're the spawn of that irritating human, Don Kesinger," and dropped Maria a few feet from the ground, her landing breathlessly on her backside.

She sat up slowly glowering hatefully at the mech, but he had already turned and was conversing with the blue one. It almost sounded like listening to a badly-tuned radio; Maria grimaced painfully and stood to her feet, brushing sand and grit from her clothing. This was madness. No check that—it was insanity. It just had to be.

Suddenly the mechs began speaking in English and the familiar yet foreign words caught her attention immediately. Thundercracker was speaking in that deep, resonating voice. "I don't think that is such a good idea, Starscream."

"Do you two imbeciles have a better idea?" Starscream retorted, crossing his arms over his cockpit. "Because I just _know_ Megatron will adore having a pet fleshy running around the _Nemesis_ while we play "Find-Her-Creator" in the middle of this Pit-slagging war!"

"I agree with TC, Screamer," Maria heard Skywarp speak up. "I don't—"

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Skywarp. If it wasn't for _you_ we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place!" Starscream snapped.

Maria watched the black jet's optics heat with anger and humiliation at the rebuttal, but he said no more. For a brief moment she felt sorry for him; he had, after all, kept her from being taken by those two hoodlums. Starscream began speaking again. "It's the best option we have. The Autobots will take care of her until we find out what exactly has happened to her creator."

_Autobots? Care for me? What in the hell!? Don't I have a say in this matter!?_ "Hey! You!" she shouted up at Starscream, hands firmly on her hips, "Don't I get a say in this!? I mean it is _my _life we're talking about here!"

She watched as the red and white mech glanced down at her, optics hot with contempt. "Just be glad you're still in one piece, fleshling, and that we are considering your well-being at all. Those less fortunate than you, are currently nourishing your carrion-eaters." Maria paled considerably at those words and her bravado ebbed away like a waning tide. "I suggest you sit down and shut that disgusting orifice connected to your vocal processors."

The tone was deceptively mellow, but the intent was crystal clear. Maria obediently sat back down and crossed her arms over her knees. _Note to self_, she thought, _do not piss off patriotic-colored jets._ Cowed but not completely defeated, Maria listened once more to the ongoing conversation. At least they were letting her hear in her own language.

"As I was saying, the Autobots are better suited for 'human' guests than us. Having them take her will free us of the added burden of looking after her while simultaneously keeping her a secret from Megatron and Soundwave while also searching for her creator," Starscream reasoned.

Thundercracker glanced sideways, optics fixing on a point out in the desert. He didn't like it. They hadn't involved the Autobots the last time they had gotten mixed up in human affairs, and he didn't want to start now. He didn't particularly feel like playing Q&A with them as to _why _they had a human, but then again, Starscream had a really good point. Keeping Maria with them would put her in danger of discovery by Megatron, or worse, Soundwave, in which all four of them would be royally slagged and Maria possibly killed. Frag. They had only been around the femme for a few, short terrestrial hours, but Thundercracker could already see that the girl had inherited her father-creator's penchant for trouble. After all, did Stinger not mouth-off to Starscream in a similar fashion, astro-seconds after their first meeting? Odd how history had a way of repeating itself. But taking the girl to the Autobots…? Something deep inside his logic cortex told him it was bad idea on a flight course of disaster. He looked over at Skywarp. More than anyone, Skywarp was ultimately responsible for Maria. He was the closest to Stinger and by default, the daughter. What was his take?

The black Seeker met his wongmates' expectant gazes with hesitancy. He thought he had done the right thing in bringing her here, but obviously not, according to Starscream. Maybe she would be safer with the Autobots. They didn't have to worry about their human friends being discovered and destroyed—well—not by their own soldiers anyway. Perhaps it was for the best—at least for a little while, until they found Stinger.

"All right," he conceded. "We'll do it. But _how_ are we going to do it without getting our tailfins shot off in the process?"

Starscream smirked. "Allow me to explain…" And for a being so much larger than a human, he could talk surprisingly softer than a spring breeze. Maria heard no more of their conversation. She sat petulantly in the sand, back turned to the winged monstrosities, her pose reminiscent of a pouting five-year-old child. But behind the pouting face, lurked the mind of a clever teenager. _No matter what happens, _she silently vowed,_ I'm not staying with any giant robots, 'Autobot' or otherwise. I'm going home!_" And she didn't mean back to the air base either.

* * *

Two individuals were slowly getting out of the cramped police car, an abundance of MPs clustered about them like ants around a couple of crumbs. The two suspects moved awkwardly, their movements greatly hampered by the steel cuffs holding their wrists behind their back. One man hobbled painfully; a dull, maroon blotch on the thigh of one pants leg. A small, round hole in the pants material marked the center of the blotch. Their faces were also bloody and bruised; lasting evidence of quite the scuffle they had been caught up within. The two men kept their heads bowed while the MPs hustled them from the vehicles.

_Pfffttt! Pfffttt!_

Instantly both men dropped to the ground, dead before they even touched the cold, hard surface of the concrete sidewalk. Each man bled freely from a gunshot wound to the head.

The MPs exploded into action, pistols drawn, yelling out orders to one another. Three of them dropped to the ground beside the fallen men to see what could be done. But each knew theirs was a futile effort. Several others fanned out through the area, searching for the sniper.

Once again the air base exploded into action. Roads were blocked, dogs were turned loose and armed patrols struck out across the base's perimeter. Edwards Air Force Base was now in full lock-down. But it was already too late.


	8. Heights and Hates

**Wow! I am on FIRE! Metaphorically speaking that is! Thought I'd go ahead and get this chapter out there. I'll be in job training in the upcoming few weeks, so time to write will be, like, nil. I hope you guys are enjoying the story thus far! I promise it'll get better! Let me know what ya think!**

**Chapter 8: Heights and Hates**

"Screamer says we will be leaving at nightfall," Skywarp said, walking up to stand behind the young girl. She had heard his approach long before he said anything, resignedly expecting it as the ground trembled slightly with his weight. Their size and stature still intimidated her just a little, but overall she had come to terms with the fact that if these beings were going to harm her, they would have already done so. But instinct was still hard to overcome.

"Whatever," she replied, not even bothering to turn and look at him.

"What's your malfunction, femme?" Skywarp asked, taking a knee beside her. His optics studied her hard and for once he traded his care-free attitude for a more serious tone. Ever since their escape from the air base, he had slowly been picking up on her mannerisms—her behavior, her attitude, tone of voice, and body language. This human seemed more depressed than Dead End and as angry as Motormaster on the losing-end of a battle with Optimus Prime. She didn't act nothing like her creator and it greatly puzzled the dark Seeker. Weren't squishies supposed to pick up some of their creators' traits through heresy, err no wait, heredity, or some fancy word like that?

Maria did turn and look at him at that. Her grey eyes were hard like slate as she replied, "What do you mean?"

"You're nothing like your creator," Skywarp said, voicing his thoughts, "You act like Megatron after he's just gotten his aft beat by the Prime. What's got your tailfins all bent out of shape?"

She continued to glare at him saying, "I don't know what you're talking about," and then turned back around to stare out across the desert.

Skywarp withheld a growl of frustration, this human reminding him quite poignantly why he had grown to hate humanity in the first place. _Ok Warp, let's try a different approach, the reason you came over here in the first place._ "You haven't even asked about your father-creator. Do you know where he is or what happened back there?"

"No."

"No?"

"Is there an echo out here? I said, 'no' and nor do I care!"

Her last words caught him by surprise and temporarily suppressed any anger that had flared up at her tone. "What!? Why? You're his offspring! Don't humans usually care about such…things?" he said, looking at Maria sharply.

"Usually, yes, but in this case I don't give a rat's ass what happens to my father. As far as I'm concerned my life would be better off without him; it certainly was before." She turned and gave Skywarp another hard glare, her eyes only reinforcing the bitterness behind her words. She took in the stunned expression on his faceplates and decided to elaborate.

"Look. I've only known…Stinger…for like, a couple months, OK? His wife Carla is not my Mom; my Mom died in a car accident three months ago. Stinger met her when they were in college; they had a fling and BAM! I'm in the picture. He goes one way, me and my mother go the other and I don't hear jack-shit from that man for years and then all of a sudden he wants to step in and be my father!? Sorry, that doesn't work with me. If he's disappeared again, that's no big surprise to me."

"I know Stinger," Skywarp growled, "He'd never abandon anyone that he thought needed help and I don't see him abandoning his family unit. Do you still have that beacon?"

"What?" She asked, brow furrowed before remembrance hit her. "Uh, yeah," she said, pulling the tiny piece of metal from her pocket and glancing at it.

"Well that's how I found _you_," Skywarp spoke sharply. "And I'd bet my last batch of high grade that you didn't activate it yourself, did you?" She shook her head.

"I thought so. I gave your father that piece and I know he'd only ever use it if he got his stabilizers in a bind. Now I don't know about him abandoning you before, but I do know he wouldn't do it now."

Resentment flashed in her eyes and the young girl flushed angrily, she temporarily forgot she was arguing with a 30-foot tall, walking weapons platform and let loose with all the pent up fury a teenager could harbor.

"Do you think I even care!? How did you even meet—Wait. You know what? I don't want to know. I'm better off not even knowing. Just take me to these 'Autobots' or whatever they're called and let me move on with my life!" And then she turned on her heel and stormed off back towards the warehouse, blonde hair trailing behind her.

Skywarp stood back up and growled lowly to himself. That…that…femme…was absolutely infuriating! Not even so much as a 'thank you for saving my life' or repairing her arm from injuries she inflicted herself! But the fact that she wasn't even interested in making an effort to find Stinger was what made Skywarp's circuits sizzle with pent-up rage. She didn't even want to know how they had met. Slag, it almost would have been better if he had never rescued her in the first place. If it wasn't for the fact that he had made Stinger a promise to look after the girl, he would have gladly put her out of her misery then and there.

Skywarp heard the gentle grinding of shifting sand and turned to see Thundercracker walking toward him. "On second thought, I think it's a good idea we're taking that fleshbag to the Autobots," the black Seeker muttered sourly. "Did you happen to hear any of that?"

The blue Con nodded his head. "Much trouble, that one," he rumbled. "The 'Bots will have their servos full that's for sure." He placed a black-enameled hand on his wingmate's shoulder.

"Huh. Well for once Screamer had a good idea. Better them than us," Skywarp groused.

"Come on, Warp. Let's just leave her alone for now. We don't have much longer to enjoy her company," the blue Seeker replied drolly.

Skywarp glanced at the blue Seeker and then turned to walk back to the opposite end of the warehouse, wings hitched in agitation. Thundercracker followed suit, pausing briefly to stare at the door from which Maria disappeared from sight.

* * *

Nightfall came quickly, much to the relief of the three metallic beings and their human guest. Maria had kept to herself most of day and though she was terribly famished, she opted not to comment on the situation. After her and Skywarp's discussion earlier that morning, none of the Cybertronians approached her, for which she was grateful. It kept her from having to dwell on the past two day's events. Every time she did think about it, she felt a little twinge of guilt for not at least wondering if Stinger or Carla were all right. After all, what little bit of time she had spent with them, they had tried relentlessly to make her feel welcomed and cared for. But then she would remember all those years when it was just she and her real mother and the bitterness would return, mixing with the guilt to create a volatile mash of pent-up frustration and anger.

She would catch glimpses of the mechs moving about, one or two of them often taking flight, only to return a few hours later to repeat the process. There really was no point in trying to run away again. Her arm still hurt like hell and with the robots apparently running some type of patrol, she knew she wouldn't get very far. As the hours passed and she busied herself with rummaging through old files and forgotten books, Maria would catch herself wondering just how her father had come across Skywarp and his two "friends." It had to have been work-related. What _had_ Stinger done to get along with these guys?

Skywarp and Thundercracker seemed friendly enough—well, if you could call the blue jet's eternal stoicism "friendly"; that one really hadn't spoken to her since she awoke earlier that morning. And as for Skywarp, Maria knew they didn't see eye-to-optic about her father. Just as well. Her opinions were her own as were her feelings and no giant, metal tin-man was going to change that. It was the red jet that made the girl extremely edgy. While the blue and the black robots had made a somewhat decent effort to be civil to her, the red one made no secret of the fact that he absolutely _loathed _her. She didn't see him often, but when she did and their eyes met, she saw nothing but pure hatred. As far as she was concerned, the sooner she made it to these Autobots, the better.

Outside the sun had set in a fiery display of color—rose, magenta, oranges, brisk yellows, cool blues and vivid violets highlighted the sky against a nearly black, desert horizon. The time for departure was nigh at hand. Seeing as how Maria really didn't have any belongings with her, she waited somewhat impatiently in the room where she had woken in the company of "TC" and "Prawsky." Skywarp and the one called Starscream had left hours previously; she imagined they were only waiting for their return. Hollow footsteps sounded just outside the door; she turned in time to see Thundercracker's holoform walk through the doorway. She didn't say anything, just watched warily as he approached her. He stopped a few feet shy of her and held out his left hand. His fingers were clasped loosely around a small, square folded piece of brown paper.

"Take it."

Maria still stared, a little unsure of his intentions. Finally she reached out and took the offering. She unfolded it only to realize it was a brown, paper bag, like what her old elementary school lunches used to come in.

"What's this for?" she asked genuinely puzzled.

The slightest hint of a smile crinkled the corner of one of his lips. "Trust me. You'll need it. Just don't be afraid to use it," he said turning to leave.

"What do you mean?" Maria asked, still not completely understanding. He turned slightly and raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn't want anyone purging their fuel tanks on _you, _would you?" Outside the twin roar of jet engines streaked overhead before lessening and then growing in volume once more as Starscream and Skywarp circled for their approach.

She shook her head, brow still furrowed.

"Well, neither do we." And he disappeared.

Still bewildered Maria decided to head outside, the bag held tightly in her palm; it was nightfall after all. Starscream and Skywarp were just touching down, fully transformed, dust and small bits of sage twirling around their thrusters in a series of mini-dust devils.

"Are we ready?" Thundercracker's booming voice sounded from behind her. Startled, she watched as he approached from the opposite end of the warehouse, stepping high above her like a hiker over a fallen limb. She ducked instinctually, not really partial to having a giant metal foot hovering over head, cautious or not.

Starscream nodded, "Autobot forces at the Ark are at a minimum. Let's get this over with." He transformed once more, leaping into the sky and shooting away like a SAM. Skywarp transformed as well, but he remained ground-bound, canopy open in expectation. Suddenly Maria understood why Thundercracker had given her a brown, paper bag.

"Oh, hell no!"

"What? What's the matter?" Skywarp asked, rocking slightly on his landing gear.

"There's no way I'm riding in that!" Maria protested, backing away slightly. She loved watching fighter jets, but that didn't mean she wanted to ride in one, especially one that was technically "alive."

"You rode in me before," Skywarp argued, paused and then added, "…Oh, wait you were offline."

Maria gaped wordlessly, her head shaking firmly. "No. No. I won't do it. I'm afraid of flying, I don't like heights, and I really, _really _don't like _you_!" She turned to run, but didn't get nearly as far as she did the first time. In fact, Maria didn't even get the chance to take a step.

She felt something grab the back of her shirt and lift her up off the desert floor. She kicked, she twisted, she thrashed but all the girl succeeded in doing was make an absolute fool of herself. She saw Skywarp's cockpit slide into view beneath her and had just a moment to prepare herself before falling a few short feet into the seat. She landed with a loud "_oomph," _the breath knocked out of her from the impact. The cockpit quickly closed, preventing any further escape attempts. Angry eyes followed the withdrawing hand of Thundercracker, the culprit responsible for foiling her escape. He transformed next to his wingmate, rear thrusters glowing faintly in anticipation of take-off.

"All righty then, now that that's settled," Skywarp's chipper voice cut through the radio. "I'd put those restraining harnesses on if I were you," he added, beginning to roll forward.

Maria just glowered at the console, but did as told, slipping into the thick straps and buckling them in place. As soon as the last _click_ was heard, Skywarp hit his afterburners and rocketed into the sky like a black, screaming banshee. The poor girl suddenly found herself pinned to the seat unable to even lift an arm to cover her eyes in fright. The paper bag was crinkled tightly in her palm. With a sudden jolt, Skywarp banked sharply to the right, diving as he went. By this time Maria had finally found her voice and she was screaming with gusto.

Now Skywarp knew she wasn't exactly screaming for joy, but he figured she owed him for at least saving her life. At the very least this was payback for her fragged-up attitude. Had she said a simple "thank you" the ride might have been a little more, shall we say, boring, but as it stood, Skywarp was still a little irked by the girl's attitude towards him and towards Stinger. And as juvenile as it was, this was Skywarp's way of teaching her a lesson—whether she realized it or not. At least it made him feel better.

"Are we having fun yet?" he called over his speakers.

_By the sound of the continued screaming, I'll take that as a 'yes.'_

The ground rushed up to meet them only to fade back down into the depths of darkness, the black Seeker shooting into a straight vertical climb, nose pointed at the stars. Maria's vitals were through the roof and her face was as pale as ash. He decided to chide her just a little more. "See it's not that bad, is it?"

But he never gave the girl time to answer. Abruptly, Skywarp cut his engines and began to pitch over backwards, hurtling them both back towards the ground.

"OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod…!!!" followed by more intense screaming ensued. Her volume was at audio receptor-shattering pitch, but oh, it was so worth it!

"Oops, looks like I forgot to fill up!" Maria stopped screaming long enough to gawk in disbelief.

"Pleeaasse tell me you're kidding!" she squeaked, terrified.

"Eh, I forget from time to time. Oh, well. Crash landings aren't that bad—oh, wait. I've never had a squishy in me before when it happened. Just hold tight," he added casually, as if crash landing were an everyday occurrence for him (although back in the early days of the Academy it was another story). And just to add a little dramatic flair to his performance, Skywarp began to barrel roll violently to the left. The screaming had resumed.

'_Skywarp! What in Primus's name are you doing!? Trying to scare the fleshling to death?' _Thundercracker's voice broke into his com-link.

'_How'd you guess?' _Skywarp sniped right back, continuing his fevered downward descent. He heard Thundercracker grumble something in response, but the black Seeker was now focusing all his attention on his last and final trick of the night.

"Hang on fleshy! It's gonna be a rough ride!"

"We're gonna die! I'm gonna die! OhmyGodOhmyGod—Ahhhhhhh!!"

Skywarp smirked to himself, running last second calculations for confirmation. The dark, foreboding desert floor reared up to meet them. Maria's eyes dilated and she froze in horror as it seemed they really were going to nose-dive straight into the ground. She closed her eyes waiting for that last, sudden impact that would end her life.

The instant Maria closed her eyes, Skywarp engaged his slipstream drive. The black and purple Seeker teleported just as his nosecone seemed to kiss the desert floor. A flash of vivid, violet light briefly illuminated the rock and cacti-strewn ground, only to have the jet reappear several miles away cruising at altitude on Starscream's right wing.

A wave of nausea washed over Maria at the sudden disorientation. The first thing she noticed was that they were still flying, thus she was still alive. The second thing she noticed was how terribly queasy she felt. With hurried, clumsy fingers the teen unfolded the squished and wrinkled bag and promptly began filling it. Granted she had had nothing to eat for hours, but that still didn't stop her stomach from telling her just how much it _did not_ appreciate her right now. It took some time for her heaves to die down, but after about five minutes of straight and level flight she was able to speak once more.

"I'm…still alive?" she gasped, spittle dripping from her chin as she risked a look up. The girl looked absolutely wretched. Her hair was splayed wildly about her head, some of the damp tendrils even clinging to her face and chin. Her eyes were red and moist and her skin was damp and clammy. Her breaths were still somewhat ragged, but it appeared she had caught a hold of herself.

"Yep," came Skywarp's chirpy reply, as if nothing had ever happened.

"You did all that on purpose." It was more of a statement.

"Yep."

"I. Hate. You."

"Feeling's mutual."

And so they flew in silence for the remainder of the trip.

* * *

_**Autobot Base**_

"I still think we should have put up those surveillance cameras in Sector 7-Delta."

"Would you just cool it, Red! It'll be all right. Stop your worryin' already; we've got more important things to worry 'bout," Inferno said, holding his head in one hand. Things had been relatively quiet for the past two hours (not including Red Alerts complaints)—that is compared to earlier that day. Both bots were nearly exhausted from the constant monitoring of activity and radio relays they had had to perform in the interim. Most of the Autobots were currently out answering calls on various reports of Decepticon activity that had suddenly sprung up since early morning. And boy, had it been odd occurrences too! First Starscream and Skywarp were spotted over Seattle and then Skywarp and Thundercracker were in San Francisco; next Thundercracker was reported all the way south in Los Angeles—and so the pattern continued, always one or two of the Seekers over a major city, never leaving until the Autobots appeared within city limits.

No shots were ever fired either, which Inferno found particularly odd. Skywarp loved terrorizing the humans now and again; even Starscream took malicious joy in causing mayhem where he could. As for Thundercracker, well the blue Seeker wasn't as blood-thirsty as his counterparts…but still it was very odd that the Seekers were out and about and not causing some form of chaos. These sightings seemed absolutely pointless as well as random. Not to mention it was the first actual Decepticon sighting in months. _If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was almost as if they were trying to dis—_

"Decepticons inbound!" Red Alert's voice broke into Inferno's musings. Instantly the fire engine was on full alert.

"Where?"

"Sector 4-Bravo. Looks like Starscream and Thundercracker. They're inbound and they're coming in fast!!"

"Alert Optimus and the others! Tell 'em to get their crankcases in gear and get back here pronto! I'll grab Bluestreak and Brawn and see if we can hold 'em off." And then the fire truck was gone racing down the Ark's main corridor comming the aforementioned Bots as he went. Inferno was afraid this would happen. Autobot forces were stretched horribly thin at the Ark. It seemed his musings had proven true; the Seekers "hide-and-go-seek" game was a ruse to draw them out and make their base vulnerable to attack. Well, that wouldn't happen! Not on his watch! He'd beat them to the punch.

"What is it, Inferno?" Brawn called, quickly transforming to catch up with the speeding engine.

"Decepticons! Starscream and Thundercracker. There're headin' this way!"

"I've been hopin' to kick a little Decepticon can lately!"

"Well here's our chance, partner!" Inferno whooped, racing out into the fresh air, Brawn hot on his wheel wells. Bluestreak was already outside, waiting for them. Together the trio raced for Sector 4-Bravo, pushing their engines as fast as the terrain would allow. Above all else, they needed to stall the Decepticons long enough for some of the other teams to return.

"There they are! I see them!" Bluestreak announced, transforming and skidding to a halt.

"Good optics, kid. Now git up into those rocks and do what you do best!" Brawn encouraged, him and Inferno transforming just as quickly, blasters drawn. On the horizon two dots were quickly streaking across the sky, vapor trails tailing the two jets like kite strings. But there was something off about the whole situation; something that Inferno had been mulling over since the sightings had began. Why were there only _two _Seekers?

"Be on the look-out," he warned. "I don't see Skywarp anywhere."

He and Brawn were now standing back-to-back, each Autobot trusting Bluestreak to provide cover fire should the black and purple jet suddenly appear, as he was known to do.

Starscream easily picked out the three Autobots and smirked to himself. His plan was going perfectly. If these three goons were the only Autobots sent to intercept them, then Skywarp would have no problem warping to the Ark's entrance and dropping off their "package." But then again this was Skywarp he was referring to—he was a walking example of what human's had termed Murphy's Law. Slag, maybe they should just change Skywarp's designation to Murphy and be done with it.

"Shall we mix it up a little, Thundercracker?" the red Seeker asked blandly.

Thundercracker chuckled. "I've always enjoyed watching Autobots dance. Sure, why not?" As the Autobots drew down on them the two Seekers quickly diverged, one climbing straight up and the other barrel rolling across the sky to come at the tiny group from the opposite side. Thundercracker quickly banked and prepared his approach. Meanwhile Starscream had reached the apex of his climb and was now preparing to dive, null rays charged and ready. Together the two Decepticons swooped in on the Autobots strafing their feet with laser fire, watching with smug satisfaction as the Autobots hopped and skipped about in a desperate attempt to avoid their fire. Even Bluestreak was having a hard time getting a bead on the Seekers, an occasional, well-placed pot shot from Starscream spoiling any attempts thus far. Together the two Seekers swooped, banked and dived on the Autobots always strafing, but never quite landing a solid hit on any of them. The battle continued like this for at least two breems and it was beginning to piss Inferno off.

"Stop dilly-dallying around, you Deceptibums and fight like mechs!" He hadn't been able to hit one of those Primus-damned Seekers yet!

"Why haven't they hit us yet? It's not like they haven't had plenty of opportunity!" Brawn said, turning his head just a bit to speak to Inferno.

"You know how Decepticons are!" Inferno quipped, snapping off a shot to his high right, "They couldn't hit the broadside of a barn of their best of days!"

"Yeah, maybe for the regulars, but this is the Command Trine! What gives?"

Suddenly all three Autobots' emergency comm. frequencies crackled to life. The frenetic voice of Red Alert quickly filled their audios. "Inferno! Brawn! Bluestreak! Anybody! Come in, quick! Skywarp has just landed outside the Ark's entrance! We're under attack! I need help, quick!"

"Well that explains the sucky aim! Let's roll!" Brawn called, transforming and quickly breaking ranks with Inferno, who was hot on his heels. Bluestreak did his best to distract the Seekers from his rapidly retreating friends, but for the most part it was a futile effort. Almost as if the Decepticons were reading the Autobots' processors, Starscream and Thundercracker broke off their attack and retreated in the opposite direction. Baffled but now concerned for Red Alert, Bluestreak transformed and tore off after Brawn and Inferno's dust trail muttering to himself, "Primus I hope Red's all right…Cause if he's not all right then it'll be all our fault for leaving him alone, but what choice did we have…I mean it was Starscream and Thundercracker after all…"

* * *

"Do you think he pulled it off?" Thundercracker asked while impatiently waiting for Skywarp's return. He was anxious to say the least. Even though every formidable Autobot was at least 300 miles away, he was still worried that something would go wrong. It _was_ Skywarp after all—trouble seemed to follow his wingmate like the contrails from his thrusters.

"Primus, I hope so," Starscream answered. The two Seekers were perched on a broad butte not too far from the Autobot base, in fact, just outside maximum scanner range. Not two astroclicks later, the distant air shimmered and wavered with violet light, the black Seeker appearing seconds later. He transformed and landed in front of Starscream, a lopsided grin on his faceplates.

"Whoo! Glad that's over with!"

"She's still functional, I hope," Starscream sniped, remembering the wild thrill ride Skywarp had given the human.

"Oh yeah, she was fine. A little wobbly," he said, wavering his hand, "but functional. Although I doubt she'll ever try flying again." He shrugged his intakes.

"Good," Starscream said, "At least now we're rid of the little wretch. Let's get back to the _Nemesis_ before we're too greatly missed." And he jumped into the air, not bothering to wait and see if the other two were following. Skywarp and Thundercracker looked at each other and exchanged shrugs, leaping into the air and following close behind their wingleader. Their plan had been successful and now they could focus on the more trying issues at hand.


End file.
